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THE MIRROR'S BLOOM

Short Stories

ISSUE ONE: (1) The Freedom of a Dreamer, (2) The Tales of Love and War with the Heart​

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ISSUE TWO: ​​(1) The Key to the Lost World,  (2) Let the Games Begin, (3) When the Angels Eavesdrop

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ISSUE THREE: Coming soon!

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2 freedom

The Freedom of a Dreamer
BY BERNIE E. INCE

Matilda 

~*~ 

There was once a time where I thought that I had felt and experienced every comfort and ache that life had to offer—within reason of course.  

                But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared me for the terribly dreadful and dreary carriage ride that, for some reason, had been selected as the method of transportation to carry my companions and I from the social scene of Munich, Germany, to the elegant,  aristocratic scene of Prague.  

                The darkly colored, dual windowed carriage beneath me rumbled over the packed, gravelly-dirt track that wound its way through the Bavarian Forests. The extraordinary forest of pine trees that spread throughout Germany and into the Kingdom of Bohemia were everything that I’d expected them to be. And…not.  

                The climate switched from dreadfully warm to absolutely freezing, as if it were deciding which way it wished to lean towards at the drop of a hat. And then there was the mud. The freezing, squelching mud.  

                I almost wanted to thank God for having us decide to take a carriage—were it not for  the downright disagreeable conditions of it. The dark purple toned velvet benches beneath us were anything but comfortable. Good Lord, my limbs positively ached. It was honestly like nobody had ever heard of comfort here! 

                But I couldn’t let myself think of that, now, could I? Not with the devastatingly beautiful, wild pines that lined the path which flowed past my window in a steady, never ending, rolling stream.  And certainly not with Mr Townsend openly staring at me from where he was seated directly opposite me on the bench facing mine. It was as if I was some unsolved  puzzle lying on a table before him or something.  

                As if he has the right to do so! But I couldn’t say that, now, could I?  

                Good heavens, being a lady sucked. 

                I cleared my throat, sitting up straighter as I raised my chin a bit higher—just as my mama had taught me. I could practically hear her murmuring her critiques into my ear, “Do not  slouch. Oh, and don’t forget to smile, my dear! We are ladies after all, you know. No, no, no!  Not that much!” 

                A new, and yet somehow old ache settled in my chest at the memory of my mama’s soft  reprimands.  

                I knew it was useless – and that my mother would have lectured me just for missing her—but…I couldn’t help it. Not when I’d left them so far away.  

                God, Matilda! Snap out of it! 

                I shook my head, focusing back into what my companions were talking about. Mr Elijah Bradford and his sister, Miss Amelie Bradford—my acquaintances from Paris—sat to my right, chatting, and laughing quietly at something the other had said. Amelie shared the same uncomfortable bench as me and Elijah sitting tall across from her. Then there was Mr  Townsend—Oliver. Elijah’s friend from their time at Cambridge, there to accompany the siblings for the summer as they toured Europe. 

                And then, finally, there was Matilda. Me. I was the true outsider—the stranger peering in through the foggy glass window. 

 

                I’d met the Bradfords whilst on a holiday with my family. Lord and Lady Bradford had insisted I accompany them on the rest of their tour across the continent, continuing with them to Munich and now…Prague. If we ever made it out of these cursed forests.  

                Honestly, though? I was genuinely excited to see the historic landmark of a city that had so many young people craving to return. The art; the history… What wasn’t to love about  it?  

                This forest, that’s what, I silently grumbled to myself. 

                “Miss Fischer?” Oliver prodded, his voice a deep timbre that had the Bradfords quieting. 

                I glanced up, meeting his hazel-brown eyes. Whoops, shouldn’t have done that. But instead of becoming indignant as I’d expected him to at my brash and careless action, he just smiled. A slow, cruel curve to his mouth.  

                My heart pounded. I really shouldn’t have done that. 

                Rule number one of being a lady in the social scene: Never look an acquaintance directly in the eye. Always look up, and then away, and then back again. Or, even better, don’t meet their gaze at all. It was rude and could be perceived as obnoxious or careless—or so my mama claimed. I honestly couldn’t care less. But, if it allowed me to travel and see the world,  I’d do just about anything to get there. Even if it meant following society’s petty little rules of being a woman of marriageable age.  

                I cleared my throat again, glancing desperately to Amelie for help. Luckily, Elijah saved me the hassle. 

                “I do believe your dear mama mentioned to me that you are to begin tutoring your younger sister, Miss Evangeline, to play the piano come the new year. Is that not right, Miss Fischer?”  

                I nodded slightly, just barely a dip of my chin. “Yes, it is,” I said as airily as I could, desperate to keep the relief currently crashing through me from my voice. Oliver said nothing, but I could still feel the weight of his gaze on me like a brand. “Oh! That sounds wonderful! How long have you been playing the piano?” Amelie inquired, excitement sparking deep within her jade green eyes.  

I sat back slightly, thinking. Lord! How long had I been playing the piano?

                “For as long as I can remember, really.” 

                Indeed, it had been one of my only escapes from the social scenes that seemed to run rampant in my life. There was always a ball, or a party to be held. Or brunch to be had at Lord So-And-So’s house. There was always something, and piano had, somehow, somewhere along the way, become one of my ways to avoid it all, to distract myself from the smothering nature of the upper societal class—seeing as I wasn’t allowed outside to ride the horses with my brothers, that is.  

                I looked back out the window just as the carriage rode over a particularly rocky section of the road, almost sending me flying from my seat. Almost—had Oliver not wrapped a strong hand around my upper arm, keeping me seated.  

                I glanced to my right, watching as Elijah did the same thing for his sister. We all stared at each other. As if each of us were trying to decide whether to laugh  hysterically, or yell. But the choice was snatched out of our hands, however, when the carriage slowed to a stop, the thunderous sound of the horses’ hooves halting with the movement. 

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                I looked to my companions again, but they looked to be as confused as me. Even more so as Fredrick, the guide we had hired back in Munich, jumped down, coming to stand at the window to my left as we opened it from the inside.  

                Fredrick was on the taller side, standing at about half a head taller than me, and was only slightly older than Elijah and Oliver. His messy brown hair hung in waves, and his shining brown eyes seemed to jump all over the place as he surveyed them.  

                He opened his mouth and started talking, harsh, rushed words. But I couldn't understand  him, not when I only spoke English, Latin, and French. Indeed, even Elijah—who was the only  one amongst them who spoke even an ounce of German—seemed to be having a considerable amount of trouble deciphering Fredrick’s words—if the scrunch of his face was anything to go by.  

                The endless, hurried stream of Fredrick’s words halted. He blinked, as if realizing we  hadn’t understood a single word that he’d said. Clearly, he’d overestimated Elijah’s ability to understand him—by a lot. 

                Letting a heavy sigh, he said slowly, as if he were trying to search his minimal vocabulary for the words, “The…uh, carriage…is…er, broken?” The words were heavily laced with his German accent, but…at least we could understand him. Sort of. 

                Understanding indeed lit Elijah’s eyes when I glanced in his direction. Edging a bit closer to the open window, he said something slowly in German.  

                Fredrick, nodding emphatically, gestured around almost randomly as he continued to speak to Elijah.  

                I looked over to Amelie, meeting her bright gaze. Her green eyes were dancing with humor, as if to say I don’t know what is going on, but it certainly is funny. I shook my head slightly, a grin tugging at my lips.  

                That is, until Elijah finished talking with Fredrick and turned to the rest of us, his face uncharacteristically sombre. Fredick excused himself, going around to the front of the carriage—probably to tend to the horses.  

                “One of the wheels has become loose, but we don’t have the part we need to fix it…”  Elijah said slowly, as if it pained him. 

                Any trace of the humour that had been in Amelie’s gaze only moments ago had  completely vanished, having been replaced with trepidation and concern. “But where shall we  find the part? We must be halfway through the forest by now!” 

                Indeed, tension coiled in my limbs. We were stuck. 

                “Fredrick said that there is a small town nearby—Waldkirchen, I believe. We shall find the part there,” Elijah replied, already shuffling towards the door. “We’ll be there and back  before dawn.” 

                I looked back at Amelie, unable to dissipate the rising sense of dread.  

                Amelie just stared at her brother, long and hard. A muscle ticked in her jaw as she ground her teeth together. She didn’t know what else to do, either.  

                Darn it. 

                I glanced desperately at Oliver, but his impassive face revealed nothing.  Good Lord. We were actually going to do this.  

                The carriage shifted as Elijah jumped out, then Oliver. Turning back, Elijah held out a hand, helping Amelie down, then me.  

                The second I landed on the muddy earth, I knew this was not going to end well. Not one bit. And certainly not as the hiss of leather being released echoed over to us. I glanced over just in time to watch as Fredrick unbuckled the last of the horses before the crack of a whip  sounded, sending them bolting into the surrounding wildlife.  

                How were we going to get to Prague now? 

                I looked helplessly to Amelie, but she would not meet my gaze. Neither would Oliver  or Elijah.  

                What was happening? 

                Fredrick came over, carefully saying something in German. Smiling grimly, Elijah nodded before gesturing for us to follow as both men led the way into the thick brush. With one last, desperate look towards the carriage, I followed them into the dark, dense foliage.  

~*~ 

                We travelled by foot through the eerie forest for three days, the canopy of leaves almost too  dense to allow any sunlight through.  We stopped only to see to our needs, getting all but a few hours of sleep for two nights  straight as we fought our way through the thick foliage.  

                No one spoke, leaving the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and our labored breaths to fill the silence. 

                Finally, on the eve of the third day, after the sun had long since set, we came across a road. This one, however, was even more roughly hewn than the last, with branches straying onto the unkempt path.  

                Too fatigued to protest, I followed my companions without complaint as they changed course, continuing to follow the path to the right.  

                “If we keep going, we should reach Waldkirchen by sunup.” 

                I didn’t care, though. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.  

                We all fell silent again. Only…this time I could have sworn something had changed. As if there was some sort of charge in the air that had not been present a moment before. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but whatever it was had the tiny hairs covering my body rising like static energy.  

                The minutes turned to hours, and before long, the light of the sun was staining the stretch of the eastern sky that had now become visible through the canopy. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Again, and again, and again, until it was all I breathed.  

                Amelie gasped from up ahead and I snapped my head towards the sound, looking at what laid before us.  

                The road had evened out once again, the trees becoming infinitely clearer. And right up ahead stood the clean little walls of a village.  

My companions seemed to sigh with relief. I was tempted to, too. Only…that feeling  of something being off seemed to coat the air, thicker than it had been only moments before. It’s fine, I reassured myself. We’ve finally made it.  

                So then why was my gut screaming at me to run? To protect my companions? Why was my heart beating so erratically that I could barely get a breath down?  

                It’s fine.  

                Only…it wasn’t, was it? 

                We had no horses to return to. We’d barely even managed to make the three-day trek in the first place. It seemed as if we’d put all our coins in one place and now found them to be missing instead of reaping the reward.  

                Amelie glanced back at me, as if she thought the same thing. 

                Uncertainty filled me to the brim, but I had no other choice but to follow as the men led us through the rusty metal gates, and into the silent street beyond.  

                The feeling of being watched followed me through the abandoned streets, the small settlement unnaturally quiet. I looked back at Amelie in warning, but the lady had disappeared along with the rest of our companions. Only Oliver remained.  

                He stared at me, his hazel gaze near glowing as he stopped in his tracks.  “What is the meaning of this?” I breathed, taking a healthy step away.  

                He said nothing. 

                “Mr Townsend?” My breathing was coming in quick, rapid pants now. “Oliver.” At the sound of his name, Oliver slowly—ever so slowly—grinned, revealing all his white teeth. The sight was anything but pleasing.  

                He reached into his pocket, that unnatural smile still pasted onto his face.  As he withdrew his hand again, though, something sleek and polished followed. His fingers were wrapped tightly around something wooden, a metallic barrel following in the mere  heartbeats it took for him to grab and draw the object. 

 

                I didn’t so much as have the chance to even scream as he withdrew the pistol and fired.

 

 ~*~ 

“Matilda?” 

                I jerked up in bed, sweat coating my pale, freckled skin.  

                My breathing was ragged, my heart beating almost a hundred times its usual pace.  A hand came to rest on my arm. I turned to meet my mother’s soft, kind blue eyes. My eyes.  

                I lurched forward, wrapping my arms around her.  

                “Oh, my. Matilda,” she said, her voice like a balm to my racing heart. She stroked my back, her hand gentle and warm.  

                “I missed you,” I murmured into her soft skin.  

                But Mrs Fischer merely laughed, as if I’d said something humorous. “Why, Matilda! I only saw you last night!” 

                I withdrew, confusion racing through me. “Last night? Mama! I’ve been gone for a month!” 

                “A month?” Mrs Fischer exclaimed. “Why, Matilda! You have such an imagination!  Now get dressed, we have guests.” 

                I shook my head but did as my mother bid.  

                It wasn’t until I was nearly to the drawing room that I heard them, though. Their voices.  The voices of my companions.  

                But it couldn’t be, could it? No, it had just been a dream… 

                That was what I’d convinced myself in my mother’s absence. And that was what it had to be. Because the alternative? 

                Oh, God. 

                Without even realizing it, I ran—practically sprinting to the slightly ajar sitting room doors.  

                Laughter floated into the hall. Bright and happy.  

                But it all ceased the second I burst into the room, breathing slightly sharply. And there, sitting on the plush, ornate sofas, talking to my dear mama and papa were Mr Elijah Bradford, Miss Amelie Bradford…and Mr Oliver Townsend. 

                Oliver looked me up and down and smiled slowly. “You must be Miss Matilda Fischer.  Your mother has told me so much about you.” 

                I looked desperately to my mama, but Mrs Fischer smiled gently at me. “Matilda, allow me to introduce Mr Oliver Townsend, a friend of Mr Bradford’s from Cambridge.” Her usually small and gentle smile morphed into something almost gleeful as she finally finished her  introduction for a man that I needed no such thing for. “And your betrothed.” 

                Time seemed to slow as Mrs Fischer said that last sentence. My heart pounded at what felt severely akin to a million miles per minute as my stomach dropped. Oh God no!

2 tales

The Tales of Love and War with the Heart​
BY BERNIE E. INCE

Leilani 

~*~ 

There was a man in my tent. 

                Marco Suarez—or so my messenger had claimed. 

                The man wore a heavy cloak with the hood raised, hiding most of his features from sight.  

                “You are the Princess Vitalis? Commanding General of the Spanish armies?” he asked, his voice soft but deep.  

                Raising my brows, I nodded. After all, it was a sadly true fact. I was the Warrior Princess—the younger half-sister of the current King of Spain, Santiago Castilla the I. But I did not really care about that.  

                Not as the man before me shifted slightly to reveal a concealed pistol.  

                And aimed it straight at me. 

                Crap. Not again. 

                “President William McKinley of the United States of America sends his regards,” he drawled as if this was just another Tuesday for him. And fired. 

                I watched in horror as the bullet sped straight towards my unprotected heart. Good God. This was how I was going to die? Hidden in my tent and taken out by a goddamn infiltrator? 

                Oh, hell no.  

                But I knew that there was no time to dodge or maneuver around it. In fact, all I could really do was sigh a small breath of disappointment and maybe even a bit of relief as the bullet fired towards me.  

                Only…it didn’t hit me.  

                Instead, it just phased right through me. Like I wasn’t even there at all, defying all sense of logic and reason.  

                What the actual hell? 

                When I looked back at where the cloaked man had been mere moments before, he was…gone—as if he’d vanished into thin air.  

                Which was…impossible. Right? 

                Right. Except, my answer didn’t fill me with nearly enough confidence as it probably should have. 

                But the space wasn’t empty, for, standing there, exactly where Mr Suarez had been mere moments before, was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on. With wavy black hair and sinful dark eyes that almost, somehow, seemed…warm to me – which was absolutely preposterous.  

                And yet, it felt oddly…true. To me, at least. 

                I stared at the newcomer skeptically. Is he the one who tried to shoot me? Or is this somebody else? 

                I didn’t know how, or why, but somewhere deep down inside of me, I knew that I could trust him. That he wasn’t the one who had attempted to kill me. 

                Which was odd considering the fact that he was a stranger whom I’d never met before just standing in my tent. But still, my gut was rarely ever wrong. 

                God. Maybe there was something wrong with my head instead.  

                I mean, a freaking bullet had just phased right through me and then this new mysterious stranger had popped up from nowhere whilst my attempted murderer was now on the loose.  

                Yep. Something had definitely stuffed up somewhere along the way.  

                “You alright?” the newcomer asked, his voice a deep timbre. “You look like you’re about to faint.” 

                You don’t say. 

                But instead of saying something that I’d undoubtedly regret later, I merely said, “Yeah. I’m…fine.” 

                Liar, I could almost hear my internal monologue declare. Such a freaking liar. Hell. That wasn’t even the most important freaking question.

                “Wait.” I blinked. “Who are you?” 

                A mere ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. And yet, my heart still skipped a beat. How can anyone look that good? It should be a sin.

                “I’ve gone by many names over my lifetime, but you may call me Malachai.” I didn’t know what to make of that. Who even said that nowadays? I mean, who would even have ‘many names’ in their lifetime? Humans don’t even live that long—not in the grand scheme of things at least. 

                “And who, may I ask, are you?” the stranger questioned, the sound of his voice doing weird things to my stomach.  

                But I couldn’t let myself focus on that feeling. I was the general of an army. No man would ever see me at his feet.  

                Squashing down my initial reaction to tell him no, he may not, I stood a little straighter. Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin, doing my level best to look down my nose at Malachai – even though he had a good few inches on me. “I’m General Leilani Vitalis, half-sister to the current King of Spain, and the Commanding General of this army.” 

                Malachai blinked before the ghost of a smile from earlier turned into a full-blown grin. “Ah, just the woman I’m looking for.” 

                But the heart-stopping display didn’t last long before he was once again sombre and mysterious. God damn it. If only I could see such a thing last. 

                “And why would that be?” 

                “Because you’re in danger, your highness.” 

                I opened my mouth to argue—I mean, who’d be dumb enough to attack me in the middle of a bloody army for crying out loud? But then again… 

                “You and your army,” he added hastily, as if he knew exactly where my mind had immediately gone.  

                Damn. Had I really become that much of a cocky bastard? And was I that transparent about it, too? 

                Then Malachai’s words fully sunk in.  

                Your army is in danger. 

                Holy crap.  

                No. 

                “Now you really do look like you’re about to faint.” A smirk glinted on his face, but I couldn’t help but notice the genuine concern in his gaze as he held out a supportive hand, though. 

                Why does he care? 

                But I didn’t exactly have the luxury to dwell on the matters of my heart in that moment. Not when my army faced some unknown danger.  

                Instead, I shoved past Malachai to my tent’s flaps.  

                Poking my head out, I signalled to the nearest soldier on guard duty before demanding in a quick, hushed tone, “Gather Lieutenant Generals Martinez, Angelini and Lopez, as well  as Major Generals Rivera and Garcia.” I paused for a second before reluctantly adding, “And  get General Alfaro, too, whilst you’re at it. Please.” 

                I watched, my gaze full of sympathy, as the guard’s face paled at the mention of Joaquin Alfaro. But he merely nodded quickly, not saying a word before disappearing into the star covered camp where my army slept. 

                At least I wasn’t the only one who thought Joaquin was a real pain in the behind. God. This was shaping up to be a very interesting night. 

~*~ 

For the love of God. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to invite Joaquin Alfaro to my impromptu little war council meeting? 

                I mean, what the actual hell was I thinking? 

                Three hours in, and we were getting absolutely nowhere.  

                Malachai had answered my questions without hesitation. But beyond that, we’d done nothing.  

                All we knew was that in two days’ time, twenty-thousand American soldiers would march on the Plain. At which time, my army would still be right in its path as ordered by my goddamn brother.  

                Which is what Joaquin kept pointing out over and over like a broken record. What had I gotten myself into? 

                I didn’t even know whether Malachai’s intel could be trusted. But, at the same time, this was the sort of information that I couldn’t just ignore.  

                Everyone’s lives were on the line, and it was up to me to decide whether to act on it or  not.  

                That is, if Joaquin ever shut his big mouth for more than two freaking seconds. “But the King ordered us here whilst we wait for new information,” Joaquin argued, his chest puffing out slightly as if he was some animal in a fight for dominance. Or a puny little man whose ego was on the line. 

                “Yes. I get that, General. I really do,” one of my best friends in the entire world, Carmen Martinez, said. “But we are in danger. We are sitting ducks where we are and General Vitalis has the means to get us out of here as fast as possible. We should just go over the King’s head and deal with the goddamn consequences later.” 

                Carmen punctuated the last few words with a pound of her fist against my little desk. I couldn’t help but smile as Joaquin’s face went a bright shade of red.  

                Until everyone turned to me.  

                Clearing my throat, I leaned my hands against the surface of the table we were all crowded around. “Okay, look. It’ll be our decision whether we push forward or retreat. But know that we should not take this decision lightly.” 

                Looking into each of their eyes, I continued, “So, either we can push forward and catch them unawares – but we’ll have to go now if we’re to make it in time. Or we can retreat, and I will get a message to King Santiago as soon as humanly possible.” Taking a deep breath, I could feel my stomach tightening in preparation for a fight. “But, as per usual,  nothing will be decided until a majority has been reached.” 

                With that, Carmen stepped forward, her face grim and her deep brown eyes cold in a way that I’d never seen before in all my years of knowing her. “All those who wish to retreat, raise your hand.” 

                I let out a small sigh of relief when Carmen, Angelini, and Garcia all held their hands up high.  

                “And all those who wish to remain here?” Carmen’s voice rose in pitch in obvious show of how ludicrous she thought the idea was—and she wasn’t alone. But I couldn’t say exactly that. Because there was, in fact, a reason as to why I established a democratic system similar to what they had in America – much to Santiago’s never-ending displeasure. 

                But that didn’t stop them as Rivera, Lopez and—of course—Joaquin all raised their hands.  

                Leaving me as the deciding vote.  

                Damn it.  

                At least it's not up to one of the idiots in the room… 

                Okay…  

                On one hand, Santiago would probably have my head if we abandoned camp. He’d said as much before I’d left on this campaign – which I couldn’t exactly blame him for doing so considering my…minor history of doing exactly that.  

                But on the other, thousands of soldiers were currently camped out around us. Thousands of sons and daughters; husbands and wives… 

                They couldn’t die. Not on my watch. 

                Not if I could help it. 

                Although, there was still the chance that Malachai was feeding us false information. But as I looked up to where Malachai was currently hiding in a shadowy corner of my tent, I knew, deep down, that every single word he’d told me was true. 

                We were in danger. And we would all die if we stayed put. 

                Before I could say anything, though, Garcia raised a slightly quivering hand. “I would like to change my vote to staying put.” 

                Rolling her eyes, Carmen sighed through her nose. Her voice was a reluctant grumble as she declared, “The stays have it.”  

                Her words barely pierced the ringing in my ears, though. My thoughts were moving so fast it was a wonder that I didn’t break down right then and there. 

                But no matter what I thought about or where I looked, there were always the same two thoughts that accompanied: holy crap. We were going to die. 

~*~ 

The night air was warm if not slightly humid outside my tent.  

                And yet, it did nothing to ease the chill that was slowly creeping into my heart. No sooner had I left, though, did Malachai come up behind me, walking as silently as a bloody panther or something. But I didn’t have it within me to be scared or frightened or even freaked out.  

                “So, you’re going to retreat?” he asked, hope apparent in his tone.  

                But I merely sighed. “No, we’re staying.”

​

                I could almost feel his horror—it was a living, breathing, palpable thing. “But…you’ll die. You have to leave.” He shook his head slowly before repeating softly, as if to himself, “You have to.” 

                “That’s not how a democracy works,” I muttered, shaking my head.  

                And God, there had never been a time where I’d hated it more than in that exact moment.  

                “Oh, come on, princess. These are your people, so why aren’t you doing more to protect them?” he snapped. Almost like he actually cared. 

                Which was so bloody ridiculous that I couldn’t help but snap, “Why do you care? It’s not like you are part of this goddamn army. So why are you here, Malachai?” He seemed to pause for a second – just one, but it was all I needed. 

                “Why are you really here?” I demanded. “To spy? To steal? What really brings you to  San Juan Hill?” 

                “I-I don’t know.” 

                God, he was actually stuttering.  

                In the few hours I’d known him, Malachai had easily become one the last people that I’d ever thought I would hear stuttering. Even when I was questioning him, he had not stumbled once. And yet…here he was. 

                I shook my head and started off in a random direction. “Don’t follow me,” I ordered over a shoulder, hoping beyond common reasoning that he’d listen. 

                Shockingly, Malachai did no such thing. Much to my ever-growing annoyance and his undoubtable hubris. Instead, he latched onto my hand before bringing me to a stop. Only, instead of saying anything, he merely brought his lips to mine and kissed me. And, for some odd reason, I quickly found myself melting into his hold. It was almost as if I knew, on some deep and unconscious level, that I was safe with him. That I was wanted. 

                Which was a first, I had to admit.  

                I’d never felt wanted. Not by my mother, my brother, or…anyone, really. But, somehow, I did then. With Malachai’s strong, muscled arms sweeping around me, holding me close as if I were something precious.  

                It was strange. Exhilarating.  

                And I loved it. 

                As I took a deep breath through my nose, though, I couldn’t help but notice a strange scent wafting off him.  

                It was sweet—sickeningly so. And… familiar. 

                God. It was a I’d only smelt once before in my twenty-one years of existence on this plane of hell. Death.  

                Pulling my mouth from Malachai’s, I looked at him in horror. 

                “What?” he asked, his brows drawing close as he gazed at me with concern. “What’s wrong?” 

                I knew it went against every societal expectation, but I had to know. “Why do you smell like death?”  

                Either I was severely overreacting—which was entirely possible—or…he was dying. Just like my mother. 

                The question seemed to take him by surprise. He blinked. “How do you know what death smells like?” 

​

                Images of my mother as she’d slowly withered away at the hands of the plague flooded my mind. My tiny hand as it clutched hers whilst she’d coughed again and again; the stench that’d appeared in her final days.  

                The stench that clung to Malachai. 

                But his question struck a chord of peculiarity in me. 

                He didn’t seem to be remotely surprised that I’d picked up on or said something about  it. No, instead, he’d asked how I knew.  

                Something was off.  

                And God. How hadn’t I seen it before? 

                “Just answer the question.” I sighed, already fed up with this conversation. But I…I  needed to know.  

                “Because I am Death.” 

                Holy freaking crap. 

                No wonder he’d known the enemy’s movements; why he’d just seemed to appear from nowhere… 

                “How could you just withhold that sort of information?” I demanded. But then another thought took front of mind – a really bloody damn good question that seemed to override any sense of common reasoning that I had left. “And why the hell are you even trying to warn us,  anyway? Especially if we’re destined to end up citizens in your twisted empire?” 

                Malachai—Death—shook his head. “I don’t know.” His brows furrowed as he frowned like that little fact perplexed him or something. 

                But I’d had enough.  

                Anger pounded through me, boiling my blood as my heart thundered. God, I was so freaking sick of this.  

                Screw him and the lies he’d told. Screw his entire cursed realm. Screw everything. “I swear that I will never darken your doorstep so long as you rule the Underworld,” I spat, tears clouding my vision. Each word was harsh, dark. But God. It was true. It was all so true. 

                Because, somehow, this betrayal hurt. I’d only known the man for a handful of hours, so it made absolutely no sense. Especially after I’d been betrayed over and over again by so many people that I’d lost count. Which then begged the question: why? Why did it hurt so damn much? 

                But I didn’t ask that. 

                I couldn’t.  

                Otherwise, I would break down, right there and then. And if there was one thing that I couldn’t allow, it was that.  

                So, without saying another word, I turned on my heel and walked away. Never looking back – even as I felt my heart breaking into a million itty, bitty, tiny little pieces. 

Malachai 

~*~ 

I couldn’t bear to watch as Leilani led her army straight onto the Plain despite everything that I’d told her. Everything I’d confessed.  

                I couldn’t barely stand to watch as her soldiers slowly fell as the enemy advanced until there was no one left.  

                Until not even Leilani herself remained. 

                But I did.  

                I made myself watch as they died, falling like stalks of wheat. I watched as the princess took her last pained and final breath. The way her once-bright hazel eyes closed as  her healthy, golden skin had dulled to a grey pallor, her long brown hair losing its luster. And then I broke.  

                I begged and screamed as I cursed Life for taking such a wonderful, bright person away from such a wretched earth. For ending her life so young, after everything she’d survived.  

                Because even though I’d never admit it to her, I had watched her as she’d grown, always drawn to her presence no matter where she went, who she went with, or what she became. I was transfixed; always had been, and possibly always would be, even with her in the afterlife with me.  

                There had been a spark to her—which was probably why I’d damned everything to hell that night two days ago when I’d warned her. When I, for some stupid, illogical reason, kissed her.  

                The day that everything inside of me shriveled up and died as she walked away from me, never looking back.  

                But when I finally pulled myself together and went to Death’s Doorstep later that very same day, there was no sign of her in the swarming mass of her army. 

                The space was dark, with the only colour in sight being the eight marble-like bone pillars that surrounded Leilani’s army in a complete circle. The outskirts – to the untrained  eye – seemed to move, though I knew that it was actually because the wall-like sides were made up of the midnight hued black cloud that I liked to call the Veil – as it kept the newly dead in and veiled the rest out.  

                Which was something that definitely had something to do with some of the new arrivals shivering—or puking—with fear upon first sight. Not that I was complaining since the magic cleaned itself up after the perpetrator was gone—it simply just provided me with entertainment.  

                The Veil not only shielded the rest of the necropolis out, but also stretched out across the bone white floor I knew lay beneath, too; seeming for all the world like a perpetual fog that just…existed. It skated harmlessly over the muddy and bloody boots of the soldiers around me, though I did note that a few of those around me looked queasy at the sight. 

                Yet, despite the Veil, there was no need for extra light sources, the space lighting itself. It was something that had always perplexed me since its creation, like the place itself had a sentience of its own that my magic had inadvertently given it.  

                “Princess?” I couldn’t help but call, my voice laced with power as I fuelled a miniscule fraction of my magic behind the words. Because one of the greatest things about  being Death was that I could summon anyone who had passed from the living. It was definitely a useful ability – one I’d used a time…or a thousand. 

                Only…no one answered.  

                Huh. That should have worked… 

                Maybe something just went wrong. I was in quite a heightened emotional state after all; I wasn’t too ashamed to admit that. It was just a fact. 

                “Leilani?” I tried again, using her given name this time.  

                Again, no reply. It was almost as if she truly weren’t here.

                As if the words she’d spat at me mere nights ago had come straight from the heart. As if she’d truly and irrevocably meant every single one of them.  

                But that is impossible.  

                She shouldn’t have been able to do that. No one could.  

                Unless…  

                No. It wasn’t possible. Not for a human, at least. Not for Leilani.  

                I’d know.  

                “Leila?” I heard someone with a distinctly feminine voice call. A familiar feminine voice. “Leila? Where are you?” 

                “Leilani Vitalis?” I tried again, funneling even more power behind each word, but to no avail.  

                What the hell? 

                “Leilani Daniella Evelyn Maria Alejandra Vitalis, where the hell are you?” that voice called out.  

                But something was different this time. Now that voice was raw with desperation as the unknown, unseen woman called out over and over again, pain coating her tone more and  more with each shout. As if her heart was breaking; shattering into a trillion tiny pieces just as  mine was, despite not even knowing why. 

                It was like some wretched beast had taken what was playing through my own mind on a loop and made it into a living, breathing reality for someone else.  

                Oh God no. She couldn’t have… 

                “Leilani?” the stranger’s voice cried. “Leilani, where are you?”  

                I could feel my heart slowly sinking with defeat as the realization dawned on me. Or maybe just as I finally accepted it. 

                By Vita’s powers, she’d actually done it. She’d actually managed to evade the hell hole that I called home—the afterlife.  

                But that means… 

                No. No, no, no, no, no! 

                She’ll be lost forever. No. I couldn’t let that happen.  

                And yet, there was nothing I could really do. I may have been Death but…there was no bringing a soul back from the Abyss. Not even a willing one—something I doubted Leilani Vitalis ever would be. 

                Holy shit. 

                I collapsed to the floor, not caring that those of Leilani’s army within eyesight were staring at me like I was some kind of anomaly in the world. Then again, I kind of was. I always had been, and that wasn’t about to change just because my life had. 

I was Death himself, and yet, I couldn’t even save one princess from the Abyss because of her own stupidity. What the actual hell? 

                How stuffed up was that?  

                It was useless. I was useless. Despite everything. 

                “Leilani!” that voice from before cried, cutting through my massive wealth of self loathing.  

                The crowd of soldiers shuffled around me until a half-wild Carmen Martinez broke free. Her head swung from side to side erratically, clearly searching for something—or someone. 

                The Lieutenant General tipped her head back slightly, her eyes squeezing shut before she screamed louder than before, “Leilani!” 

                Ah. The other voice. 

                But then Martinez whipped around until she faced me, a look of pure death covering her features – how ironic.  

                “You,” she snapped as she pointed to where I now cowered on the floor. Good god. What had become of me? I was Death himself for hell’s sake. And yet, I still couldn’t find it within me to pick myself up and face her head on.  

                “You did this,” Martinez growled as she stalked towards me.  

                Wait: me? She was blaming me for this colossal stuff up? 

                “Where is Leilani?” Martinez demanded, her amber eyes seeming to heat with some fierce inner fire. “Where. Is. She. Mortem?” 

                I couldn’t do anything but shake my head slowly, sadly, not daring to note the Latin use of my name. “I do not know,” I breathed. “I am sorry Lieutenant General Martinez.” My words were genuine, but none of that seemed to affect the raging woman before me.  

                There was definitely a reason as to why she, along with Leilani, had risen in rank so damn fast. And it wasn’t just because of an accident of birth.  

                They were both fierce and competitive. Strong. And not just physically. It was something I’d always admired as I’d watched them train together. Something I’d only truly seen a handful of times before, despite living for so that I honestly wasn’t sure how old I was anymore.  

                Something genuine, real and infinitely rare enough that it could bring about the only true power humans could possess—hope. 

                The rest of Leilani’s army seemed to shift uncomfortably, as if this outburst from Martinez was completely irregular. As if they didn’t know how to handle a situation such as this—and, to be honest, I didn’t either, but I wasn’t exactly being given a choice in the matter. Unlike them. 

                Martinez stalked towards me, an accusatory look in her eyes. “Leilani told me  everything,” she growled. “Who you really are, how she figured you out…”  She was close enough now that I could smell her breath as she said, “She even told me what she said to you before walking away forever.” 

                I swear that I will never darken your doorstep so long as you rule the Underworld. I could still see the way Leilani had turned away, pretending she wasn’t crying as she ran. Leaving me lost for all eternity.  

                God, why had I been so stupid? Why had she been so stupid? It didn’t make sense. Surely, she knew what the consequences of doing such a thing would be. Or at least had a goddamn inkling.  

                Wait… 

                I swear that I will never darken your doorstep so long as you rule the Underworld.

                My God.

                “She did it.” I couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that burst from my lips, seemingly of its own accord. “She actually did it.” 

                Martinez seemed to pause, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Did what?” she snarled. “What did you do?”

​

                I could already feel the tears pressing into the backs of my eyes, stinging and burning, begging to be let free once more.  

                But I couldn’t.  

                Not here, in front of people who were now my brand-new subjects. And definitely not in front of Martinez who seemingly blamed me for the actions of her best friend. “I didn’t do anything,” I bit out. “This was all Leilani’s doing.” 

                The words left me empty, hollow. It was as if finally voicing my suspicions had just made the entire situation a reality.  

                A reality where the woman I’d watched and slowly, irrevocably fallen for over the past twenty-four years had chosen an endless suffering of a death sentence rather than visit my kingdom with me still in it.  

                Oh, princess. 

                I could feel my throat closing up as my tears threatened to spill over. But I managed to externally remain as cool, calm and collected as possible as I turned on my heel and left Carmen Martinez curled up where she now lay on the floor of Death’s Doorstep. But it didn’t last long.  

I’d barely just made it back to what I liked to call the Observation Auditorium when I fell to the floor and finally let my tears fall. 

                A tormented sob worked its way up my throat before slipping free. 

                God. She’d actually managed to do what no other had even come close to in all the many years I’d existed on this plane of torment and misery.  

                She’d defied me, the God of the Underworld. Death himself.  

                So long as I sat on Death’s throne, she would stay in the Abyss. 

                I should be proud, really. After all, there had to have been a reason my attention had always snagged on her.  

                So then…why did it hurt so goddamn much?  

                I guess I’ll never know… 

                But, somehow, that answer wasn’t enough. And I knew it never would be. Because, for as long as I ruled, Leilani would be gone. And if I didn’t rule, I would be gone. 

​

                What had I done?

2 key

The Key to the Lost World
BY BERNIE E. INCE

PART ONE

​

Aurelia 

~*~ 

My cheeks were aflame with mortification as I slowly stood and gathered my belongings. God, I couldn’t believe it. My first day and I was late. 

                I’d been in my shared, on-campus four-bedroom apartment for less than a week, and yet I’d still managed to map out the entirety of my university’s campus. But despite everything I’d done to ensure otherwise, I had still been late. 

                Stupid freaking alarms. 

                Filing out of the row of seats in the amphitheater of a classroom, I followed my new classmates out, keeping my head ducked low to avoid the gazes of the people I passed. Damnit. I didn’t even know why I was so worried about what they all thought anyway – it’s not like I was going to be sticking around or anything. Because as much as having a degree majoring in English sounded awesome and like my life finally had some meaning, it wasn’t what I was really here for. 

                No. Not even close. 

                Oxford University prided itself on being the first university to open in England. It had a ‘rich history’ as my tour guide had said when she’d shown the new residential students around the place. It had supposedly been founded in the year 1096, and blah, blah, blah… God that woman hadn’t known a damn thing about the place she was supposed to be guiding people around. 

                No. The ‘history’ she’d been raving so much about was fake – a complete and utter fabrication that’d been written and designed by humans to cover up the bastardly truth of such a ‘prestigious’ institution. Just like with most things that’d been tainted by the human race. 

                Because, unlike that tour guide, I knew that Oxford had existed for far, far longer than the nine hundred and twenty-nine years most people thought it had. As did my father – or at least, according to his journal he had. 

                I would never know for certain since he sure as hell hadn’t told me shit before he died. “Ahem.” 

                My thoughts were rather rudely interrupted by a pair of beaten-up looking black boots that entered into my line of sight – well, that and the throat that someone had cleared pointedly, too. Startled, I yanked my downcast gaze up from where I’d been staring purposefully at the floor. Only to meet a pair of eyes so dark and…lifeless that I had to stop myself from physically recoiling. 

                A shudder worked its way up my spine as I forced myself to stay put. 

                God. There was just…something about those eyes. I just couldn’t quite put my finger on what, though. 

                Tearing my gaze away from those eyes, I sucked in a sharp breath as I took in the face they belonged to. ‘Beautiful’ didn’t even begin to describe the man that stared back at me. His hair was ebony black – the colour almost matching that of his eyes – and was cropped close to the sides of his head but left curly on top to form a bit of an oddly well styled mop. His pale skin was somewhat golden, radiating a bright and healthy glow. The lines of his face were a conflicting mix of pointed, defined and soft – and yet, they all seemed to just fit. Somehow. He blinked rapidly – once, twice, thrice – shaking his head as if to clear it. Then those eyes caught and held mine in their alluring stare.

                The stranger opened his mouth, as if he were about to say something, but someone else beat him to it. “Kayde? What’re you doing…?” The newcomer’s words died off as a pair of vibrant, pale blue eyes met mine – or as much as they could at least since I sure as hell wasn’t looking away from the first ones. “Oh.” 

                The rest of the world continued around us, people shoving past to get out of the classroom. But the three of us just stood there, motionless, as unmovable as boulders in a raging stream. 

                Shaking his head, the one with dark eyes stepped forward, sticking out his hand as he appeared to fix an open and approachable smile on his face. It was almost like he was one of the professional politicians that were often shown on television. “Hi–” 

                Before he could say another word, though, I stepped back, as if doing so would somehow spare me from any possible form of attachment. 

                Psht. I could almost laugh at the absolute bullshit my own mind had sprouted in that moment. But I didn’t. Instead, I just edged to the side before ducking around the two insanely handsome men. 

                Maybe if I just kept my head down and focused on getting out of there, I could just shrug off the entire incident like it’d never happened… 

                But even as I thought about it, I heard the telltale sound of pounding footfalls coming up behind me. Well, there goes that plan. 

                A second later, I felt a large, warm hand land on my shoulder, halting my escape from this classroom that was turning out to be more of a cage than a place of learning. “Hey, wait.” The male with the dark eyes – Kayde, or something – panted slightly. 

                Tensing, I prepared to throw him off me as he started to turn me in place. And yet, despite my better judgement, I couldn’t quite move to do it when I looked up and met those strange eyes. 

                Shit. What the hell was wrong with me?

                Absolutely everything, and yet nothing all at once. If that was even possible. Guess it is now. 

                My heart pretty much stalled as he offered me a half grin. “You forgot this,” he said, holding out one of my black pens. Damnit, I must have dropped it in my haste to get away from him and his friend. 

                Breathing out a small sigh of something that I was almost ashamed to call relief; I took the pen from his outstretched hand while mumbling a quick “Thanks”. Turning, I didn’t dare look back over my shoulder at the man – or his friend hovering a step behind him – before moving to leave again. 

                “I’m Kayden by the way,” he called out after me. “And this is Jay,” he added a moment later and I didn’t even have to look to know that he’d undoubtedly just gestured half-heartedly to his tall, if quiet friend. 

                I knew that I shouldn’t; forming any connections in my short time here would just lead to heartbreak down the road. And yet, despite that, I still found myself stowing those little tidbits of information away. 

                I was here for a purpose: find and retrieve the dragon egg. I needed to remember that.

                But…Kayden… 

                Crap. I was in so much goddamn trouble.

​

Kayden 

~*~ 

God, what the hell was I doing?

                It had been a week since I’d first laid eyes on that girl – Aurelia Everhart, if our professor was to be believed. And yet, it didn’t matter where I went or who I was with, she just seemed to…linger in the back of my mind. 

                It’d definitely made starting classes in this human prison of a school hard – harder than it should’ve been.

                “What’re you thinking about?” 

                I almost jumped as Jay slipped into our shared dorm room. When I glanced up, his ebony skin showed the small signs of sweat that often showed up after a run. At least one of us was still maintaining our fitness regime. 

                I was meant to as well. Especially considering the fact that we weren’t meant to use our supernatural abilities such as strength, speed and endurance unless it was a last resort. Which meant stupid human strength, being slow as hell, and having the endurance of a weakling. After all, we weren’t exactly just two regular humans attending the institution they now called Oxford. No, we were here for one reason and one reason only: to protect the last surviving dragon egg - mainly from human greed and idiocy. An infinitely rare and precious thing that, for some reason, my ancestors had decided to leave here of all places. 

                And yet, nothing seemed to matter except for Aurelia. There was just something about her…

                “Kayden?” 

                Whipping my head up, my heart sped into a pounding gait. “Huh?” 

                Shaking his head in what could only be exasperation, Jay wandered over to the trunk at the end of his little cot of a bed. “I said, ‘What’re you thinking about?’” 

                Silence stretched out between us – as strained as it’d ever been. 

                We’d been close since the day we were born. Our mothers had grown up knowing each other and they’d made damn sure that we’d known each other too. We’d been as thick as thieves despite our supposedly different ‘social classes’. I was raised to be a prince of the world the humans had attempted to wipe off the face of the earth all those centuries ago. But Jay had been raised for this – to rotate in and out of Oxford all to protect the egg. 

                Two completely different lives; yet, here we both were. Together, living the life that I’d always wanted and the one that Jay had been destined for as all malakhim were – though they were more commonly known to humans as angels. 

                But something was different. This girl… I couldn’t get her out of my head. Her beautiful long wine-red hair and hazel-coloured eyes haunted my every move. Constantly lingering despite how much I wished otherwise over the past five weeks.

                “It’s her, isn’t it? You’re thinking about that girl.” Jay perched on the edge of his perfectly made bed, scanning me from head to toe. Whatever he saw caused him to turn his head away, his mouth tightening at the corners. “You know what Queen Rayna will do. A human doesn’t belong in our world, Kayde. It’s only going to do more harm than good, and you know it.” 

                Shaking my head, I sprang to my feet from where I’d been sitting on our shared floor surrounded by my textbooks. “It’s not that…” My words died off as I took in Jay’s sceptical look. “Okay, it is that. But there’s more,” I semi-lied. “There’s just something about her… She’s got a reason for being here – and it’s not to get a degree,” I added before the smartass could make some sarcastic comment. “I don’t know how I know it. I just…do.” 

                Sighing, I wandered over to lean against the wall across from him, resting my head against the plaster. “Does that make any sense?” 

                Snorting, my oldest friend leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. “I think you might’ve hit your head one too many times.” 

                “And I think you know that I’m right,” I bit back through clenched teeth.

                Rolling his eyes, Jay sat back, balancing his weight on his hands. “Even if that is the case, what do you think she’s here for then?” 

                Leveling a bland glare on him, I replied in a deadpan voice, “What are we here for?” 

                “The egg? Really?” Shaking his head again, Jay jumped up from where he’d been sitting. “But we ensured that humans would never know about the egg’s existence…” 

                “You and I both know that those wards aren’t foolproof. That’s why we’re here after all.” 

                “That’s why I’m here, you mean. You’re meant to be back home studying to become the next king of the Lost World.” He shook his head for a third time, like he was attempting to dismiss me despite the almost laughable fact that it was literally illegal for him to do so. But I could see it, that seedling of doubt. That little voice of reason inside his head that actually saw the merit behind my words.

                “I’m not saying we should report it or anything…I’m just proposing a…stakeout. Just to be safe.” I shrugged, watching him start to pace the space of what little area remained free of the crap on our cluttered floor. 

                “And when exactly do you propose we do this, oh wise one?” My friend’s tone was dry, sarcastic as he continued wearing a path in our floor – though his footsteps were noticeably more calmer now than they’d been moments ago. But it was the question itself that told me all that I really wanted to know; I’d won. 

                “Tonight. It’s a full moon tonight. I don’t think she’s going to drag it out if she doesn’t have to.” 

                Raising a brow, Jay opened his mouth as if to say something before snapping it closed and looking away. Almost as if he’d thought better of it. Which was…odd, to to say the least. “What?” I couldn’t help but ask.

                “Nothing. You just…for a second, you reminded me of…him.” 

                “Oh.” Understanding and sorrow swept through me as I comprehended what he was saying – and all that he wasn’t. His father. The man who’d practically raised me, too – even if it may have been against his better judgement. Pushing off from against the wall, I quickly crossed the distance between us before resting my hands on his shoulders, waiting for him to look up and meet my gaze before saying, “Let’s make him proud.” 

                “Yeah…” 

                It’d been five years since we’d lost Rydon – Jay’s father – in an incident with some humans on the border of our lands. And yet, we all still felt his loss as keenly as if it had just happened last week – Jay especially. 

                Knowing that there was no other way to truly get rid of the soul-deep pain in my best friend’s eyes, I decided a change of subject was in our best interests. “Hey,” I said, nudging him playfully. “Ten gold marks says I’m right about Aurelia.” 

                Snorting out a choked laugh, Jay nudged me back. I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when I saw the light return to his eyes, humour dancing in those pale blue depths. “You’re on.”

​

Aurelia 

~*~ 

The bound leather cover of my father’s journal was worn, the protective material showing signs of not only age, but also the well caring love I’d seen him show the book. I knew the pages inside were yellowing and worn, yet the ink was still as clear as the day it’d been used to scribble the words onto the page in my father’s familiar scrawl.

                Even just looking at it now, I felt that empty, broken piece of an abyss inside of me ache in that horribly familiar way I’d grown all too accustomed to over the past few months. 

                Tracing shaky fingers over the emblem that’d been stamped onto the cover – a circle with the viking-like symbol of a dragon on it – I sucked in a deep breath before finally opening the book. The pages were sleek and smooth, the mostly black ink long since dried. I ran my fingers over the first page before flicking through to the page I’d marked the last time I’d had the guts to search through the contents of the mostly fictional sounding journal. The contents of which held his ‘research’, as he’d once claimed when I’d asked years ago. 

                Little did I know what that ‘research’ truly entailed.

                But even as I scoured through the familiar pages, it wasn’t the contents of the journal, the plan I’d finally enact tonight or even the man who’d written it that my mind wandered towards. No. It was something else entirely.

                Kayden. 

The man – his name, face, voice, anything about him, really – just…lingered. When I was awake, in my sleep. Everywhere. He was just…there. It wasn’t simply weird. It was annoying and distracting. 

                Despite only sharing one class together, he was still always there. In the halls, at the shops, in the library… It was like he was a reaper or something ridiculous like that. Tasked with haunting me for the rest of my days.

                A knock on my room’s door tugged me out of my spiraling thoughts.

                Glancing up, I turned to face the dark wood of my door, snapping the notebook in my hands shut before calling out loud enough for the person on the other side to hear, “Come in.”

                A second later, the door swung open with a small squeak, revealing one of my roommates’ faces. 

                Maybel’s collarbone length honey coloured hair had been pulled away from her freckled face into a half up, half down hairstyle, making her pale skin and defined features stand out more than usual. In the six weeks that had passed since move-in day, Maybel had become the person I was closest to out of everyone here – definitely out of my roommates, at least. 

                Despite that, however, she was also one of the last people I ever wanted to see knocking on my door when it was originally shut. Whenever she did, it was either because something bad had happened, or because she was determined to see if I’d join her in going to a party – something that I’d shot down every single time without fail. And judging by the fact that it was now dark outside and the skimpy but not too revealing black dress she was wearing, I was betting heavily on it being the latter. 

                Ugh. Great.

                Something about my face must’ve given away my thoughts because it took all of a second for Maybel to put on the big puppy dog eyes that I’d become all too accustomed to – it was an art that she’d truly mastered in her nineteen years of life. Her soft brown eyes were pleading as she cut in before I could utter a single word, “I know what you’re about to say-”

                “Do you? Do you really?”

                “-but I really think that you should come. Just this once. Give it a try. It’ll be worth it, I promise”

                I’d already started shaking my head by the time she’d finished speaking. We’d had this discussion once or twice every single weekend since moving in together. And despite her being the only person I thought I’d actually miss from this place once I was gone, my answer was still the same as every time she’d asked me before. “No.”

                “Please, Aura,” she begged, dragging the words out into a big, long, hideous whine. “Pretty please with sugar on top? I genuinely think you’ll have fun.”

                Fat chance of that happening. “I’m sorry, May. But I’m going to sit this one out.”

                Crossing her arms in a way that I knew meant she was in no way ready to give up yet – a look I’d become a bit too used to – she leaned back on the balls of her feet and narrowed her eyes at me. “What? Like the last eleven times I’ve asked? No. I’m not taking no for an answer this time. Get dressed. You’re going.”

                Shit. Had I really said no eleven times already? I couldn’t help but wince as I understood why the only person in the world who I could really consider a ‘friend’ was being so insistent. 

                Maybe…maybe I could go…just this once.

                She didn’t know that come tomorrow, I’d be gone. That once I had the egg of the last dragon, I’d disappear and it’d be almost like I’d never existed in the first place. 

                And, despite telling myself that I’d leave without forming any attachments whatsoever when I came here, I knew that I’d miss her once I was gone – even though she was probably one of the most incessantly annoying people I’d ever met in some regards.

                So, making a quick plan in my head, I made up my mind. Before I could talk myself out of it, I took a deep breath before finally muttering a resigned, “Fine,” and sealing my fate for the night.

                With an overly excited, high pitched squeal, my roommate launched towards me, her arms outstretched as she yanked me up from where I’d been seated cross-legged on the soft, plush rug on my floor. 

                But even as Maybel bustled around, helping me get ready for the night, there was only one thought going through my mind.What had I gotten myself into?

~*~

Those six words that had been on repeat in my mind earlier in the evening when Maybel had dressed me up like a barbie doll were now practically an echoing beat to my heart. Seriously: what the actual hell had I gotten myself into.

                It’d taken the other girl all of an hour to finish playing dress up with me. An hour for her to straighten my hair, do my makeup in what she called a “smokey eye” style, and to flick through my wardrobe and declare all of my clothes too inferior to wear to a party and shove an emerald green dress from her own collection into my hands before demanding I put it on. 

                Why did I agree to this again?

                Because I had a stupidly guilty conscience, that’s why.

                Ugh.

                And now, here I was, all dressed up in a skimpy green dress, with makeup on and my naturally loosely curled hair straightened, only to be standing as far removed from the party as physically possible while still being close enough to be considered in attendance. 

                This was so not my scene. I should’ve known it the second Maybel had gone through my wardrobe like a predator after its prey. Should’ve known it when I’d suggested wearing the only ‘nice’ outfit I had and she’d practically turned her nose up at it. 

                God. Since when was a girl wearing pants to a party considered inappropriate? This wasn’t the nineteenth century for crying out loud. It was twenty-twenty-five. A modern era where, yes, girls now wore skimpy as all hell dresses, but it was now actually considered appropriate to be wearing pants instead.

                Between the clothes, makeup, hair, loud music and swarming mass of people, I was just about ready to leave. I didn’t mind the black heels Maybel had insisted I’d wear, but everything else? They had me regretting every single life choice that’d led me here, to this moment.

                But even worse? I seemed to be the only one not flitting around like a social butterfly. Knowing anyone and everyone whilst fitting in everywhere. And the queen of it all had to be Maybel. If I hadn’t known that she really lived with me, I would’ve thought she owned the entire damn place. 

                And yet, something about it all just made me feel infinitely lonely. Like I didn’t belong.

                Which, truthfully, I didn’t. But for some reason, I found my heart aching with a hollow, pulsing emptiness that I hadn’t felt in years, yet one that I was all too familiar with. Loneliness.

                It’d only been me and my dad growing up. My mum had died before I could remember in a vicious car accident – at least according to my father. He hadn’t exactly liked talking about her. But that meant it’d just been me and him, the two of us against the world.

                Quite literally apparently considering his notes on Oxford, the dragon egg and the Lost World. You control the dragon egg, then you control the Lost World. You control the Lost World, then the humans will be a piece of cake. 

                Whilst they’d managed to drive out those with magic in their veins during the war, things were different now. Knowledge of the world that’d been hidden right under our feet had become extremely limited, with only a few people knowing because they’d been told. Which meant that those with magic had the advantage of surprise.

                But that wasn’t why I wanted the egg. Not even close.

                No. I wanted it to get away from here. To get away from this godforsaken plane of existence.

                According to my father’s notes, the dragons had been hunted into extinction because they had the unique ability to summon the Erebyss. I hadn’t found a reference of it anywhere in any human texts that I’d searched. But from what I understood, the Erebyss was like a tear between the space-time curriculum that very few beings could open. And dragons just happened to be the most accessible of those beings once upon a time.

                The night drifted on as I tried to stay as removed from the party as possible, all while thinking over my plan. 

                Perhaps it was actually kind of perfect that Maybel had dragged me here tonight of all nights. Tonight was a full moon – something that would make finding and securing the egg in the underground chamber beneath the library I’d found in the time I’d spent scouting out the gazillion libraries it could’ve possibly been. In the end, it’d been almost exactly where the journal had claimed. Still though, who knew that a single educational institute needed so many libraries? 

                Just when I was contemplating leaving, the semi-peace that I’d managed to maintain throughout most of this cursed outing came under threat. The queen of the party, Maybel, was headed my way. And with her came the giant group of people that’d flocked her the entire night. All of whom were now headed straight towards me. 

                Letting out a long suffering sigh, I glanced down at the drink clutched tightly in my hand. I did my best to relax – hopefully saving the plastic cup from feeling too much of my wrath. Shaking my head at my antics, I could only loosen my muscles so much as I felt my body locking up. 

                I’d known that escaping the social and the mingling aspects of a party was going to be possible. Especially if Maybel had anything to say about it. But did she really have to force me to mingle in what was genuinely starting to look like a giant swarm?

                Before I could even think about ducking away, though, the first of the mass reached me. The closest of whom just had to be the arrogant ass known as Tyler. 

                A shudder worked its way up my spine, but it was too late to hide from sight. Especially as what had to be the campus’s number one bully turned his beady dark brown eyes on me. 

                “Aurelia, right?” he asked, almost like he was trying to be…pleasant. But if anything, it just made my skin crawl.

                It wasn’t that he was necessarily unpleasant looking or that the small sneer of a smile he was directing my way truly meant anything to me. It was the fact that he was trying to act somewhat decent despite the fact that I’d already seen through his cobweb of a facade, straight to the bully inside. That, and the fact that I knew damn well that he already knew my name.

                Luckily, I was saved from having to scrounge up a polite response by Maybel cutting in. “Leave her alone, Tyler. She doesn’t need you hounding her all night.” 

                With a snort, someone else in the crowd called out, “No one does.”

                Turning uncomfortable yet gratitude filled eyes to my roommate, I finally summoned the courage to do the one thing that I’d been wanting to do since the moment we’d arrived. “I think I’m going to turn in early. Are you alright to get yourself back to the apartment?”

                I couldn’t help but cringe inwardly when my friend’s beautiful face fell slightly, all but preparing for her to argue for me to stay again. But instead, a second later, she merely nodded before offering a small, if slightly dejected, smile. “Sleep well,” was all she said.

                Letting out a sigh of relief, I reached out to clasp Maybel’s hand and squeezed gently while offering a small, thankful smile. “Thank you.”

                And with that, I discarded my drink before shoving my way out of this hellscape of an event. It was only once I was back on the street again that I was able to take my first full breath for the night. 

                Glancing down the street to my left – the way that’d take me back to the room I’d secretly stripped bare before I’d left earlier – I couldn’t help but whisper a quiet but surprisingly heartfelt goodbye to the slice of a normal life I’d actually managed to build for myself while here. With a silent, burning tear rolling down my cheek, I looked up at the full moon once more before turning in the other direction and walking away. 

                Walking away from Maybel and the friends that I could have had. Away from my degree and the life that could’ve come with it. Away from the mysterious Kayden and his friend, Jay. 

                Away from it all. 

                Instead, I walked towards the bag I’d stowed away with my minuscule personal belongings. Towards the new life that awaited me.

~*~

It’d been easy to find the bag I’d hidden away, to change into the black clothes and boots and finally rid myself of the dress that’d surely haunt my nightmares in the years to come. Though I did tuck the heels Maybel had lent me into my bag instead of discarding them as I perhaps should have, unable to part with them for some ridiculous reason. 

                It had been barely any trouble to slip past the security guard and find the hidden entrance that would lead me into the system of underground chambers that existed beneath the school. Just as it took almost no effort to find the chamber I needed and grabbed the egg. 

                God. I was so ready for this night to be over.

                It was only when I’d just stepped out of the earthen, underground chamber, the large, warm black dragon egg in hand, that I stopped dead in my tracks.

                “Well, this is certainly an…interesting surprise,” drawled a deep, painfully familiar, masculine voice from the shadows. 

                Shit. Jay. But why the hell was he down here? And if he was here, then where was Kayden? 

                As if on cue, a low, threatening growl rang out in the strained silence, causing my heart to jump into my throat. The sound was anything but human. 

                Pursing my lips in a vain attempt to disguise the reaction, I levelled a glare on the man leaning against the wall across from me. Jay’s dark clothing and black boots blended well in the shadows, though I could still see him – barely. In the thin shafts of moonlight filtering in through the ceiling, I could clearly make out the anger that was plainly written on every line of his features – the set of his mouth, the way his brows furrowed as he glared at me from between narrowed eyes… It all practically screamed rage. 

                Then I glanced down at where Jay had his feet crossed, one over the other. But that’s not what took my attention. No. It was the giant wolf with pitch black fur and dark, flat, almost dead eyes. 

                A pair of eyes that I’d know anywhere. And yet, there was still no fathoming what I was seeing before my very eyes despite logically knowing it could be true. Kayden. 

                A shiver tiptoed down my spine as those strange eyes met and held mine. Retreating step by step, I slowly backed away, tightening my grip on the egg as I went. Perhaps if I just kept slowly backing away then maybe I could put enough distance between the guys and myself for me to escape… 

                As if they’ll ever let me get that far before stopping me. 

                Taking another step back, I jolted as my back met something unexpectedly warm and hard. Not like the stone wall type hard, more like…flesh covering packed muscles. It wasn’t until a pair of rough, calloused hands landed on my arms that I truly comprehend what was happening. 

                Oh shit. 

                Face draining of colour, Jay practically leapt off the wall as he scrambled to stand at attention with his feet braced shoulder width apart, shoulders back and hands tucked behind them. But it was the wolf’s wide eyes and slightly agape maw that truly had my heart leaping into my throat. 

                Never before had I seen those dark depths so alight with anything – so…alive. Especially not with the concern, and perhaps even a dash of fear, that I saw churning there. Goddamnit. I was about to die, wasn’t I? 

                “Well, this is certainly…interesting.” I could practically hear the disdain dripping from the melodic, feminine that came from somewhere behind me as she repeated a slightly different version of Jay’s earlier words. The distinct sound of heels clacking against stone echoed around the enclosed chamber before the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on stepped into view. 

                She had curled, luxurious blonde hair that looked for all the world like it could be spun gold. Even from this awkward angle, I could see the woman’s eyes were dark and flat – and familiar, even though I could’ve sworn I’d never seen her before in my life. Her olive skin seemed to glow with health, even in the musty stone chamber we were in. She could’ve only been a few years older than me at most. Everything about her screamed youth – all except for the inexplicably ancient light that seemed to dance in those strangely dark, ominous depths. 

                I could’ve stared at her for hours. She was breathtaking in an endlessly composed and dignified way. 

                Or I would have, had she not turned and fixed her attention solely on the wolf who was now standing as still as a statue – so still that I could hardly tell if he still breathed or not. “Nikolai Leonardo Jasiah Kayden Christopher Valentino, start talking. Now.” 

                Slumping slightly in what I could only describe as resignation, a blinding flash of light filled the chamber, right where the wolf had been standing. Stumbling a step back, I bumped into that rock hard chest again as I attempted to shield my eyes from the sudden bright light. 

                Blinking stars out of my vision, by the time I managed to look again, the wolf was gone. And in its place, Kayden crouched, staring at the floor like it held the answers to life before finally saying in a mumbled yet oh-so-clear voice, “What are you doing here, mother?”

2 games

Let the Games Begin
BY ANONYMOUS

"Hello, Miss Hartford! Oh, it's lovely to see you come in so early!" a middle-aged man exclaims, spotting Juliet from afar.

​

She chuckles and makes her way over, replying with a smile, "Well, I wanted to make a good first impression, sir."

​

"Very well then, since you came in so early, why don't we get started right now? Come on in."

 

While leading her into his office,Juliet carefully chooses her seat, reminding herself of her grandma’s wise advice: "Sit to his left, straighten your back, plant your feet, set your bag on the side of the desk so he doesn't see it, and smile."

 

"Okay, let's start, shall we?"

 

Juliet nods and begins her introduction.

 

After an hour of talking, questions, and laughs, they finally reach the last question.

 

"Okay! Last question: what is something you can't imagine yourself living without?"

 

Juliet pauses.

 

"My family," she blurts out without thinking. Her adoring grandma and irresistible little brother were the only family she had left;she had to look out for them no matter what.

 

"Okay, that should be it! Thank you for coming in today! Do you have any questions for us?" he asks.

 

But Juliet's mind drifts. The words he was speaking faded into muffled echoes as a dream from the night before crept into her consciousness. Her heart begins to pound, loud and uncontrolled.

 

"Umm...Miss Hartford, are you alright?"

 

"No—I mean, yes. Thank you for this opportunity! I'm looking forward to hearing from you!" she says as she makes her way out.

 

As she walks back, she reminds herself that it was just a dream,

 

"Breathe in," she tells herself as she takes a slow regulated breath. "...and out." She exhales quickly. Slowly but surely, her pale skin regains its colour.

 

That same evening, she receives an email from the company, but waits to open it with her family.

 

"Grandma! Come and bring the popcorn with you!" her little brother Jason calls out.

 

"I'm coming, my darlings!" she replies.

 

Juliet can’t wait any longer. She desperately needs this job, and now is the moment when she gets her answer.

 

"Okay, I'm here. Remember, honey, whatever happens, don't forget your worth," Grandma gently assures.

 

Juliet gives her a soft smile as she opens the life-changing email. 

 

"Dear Juliet Hartford, we hope this news reaches you in good spirits. We are delighted to inform you that after careful consideration, you have been ACCEPTED FOR A POSITION AT OUR COMPANY!!!" she announces, gradually rising in excitement.

 

"Oh, we're so proud of you honey!" Grandma whispers in Juliet’s ear, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

 

Meanwhile, Jason jumps around gleefully. "Guess who is finally getting the new video game? ME, ME, ME!"

 

Juliet's full smile drops as she continues reading the email to herself this time. "We hope you forgive us for our amateurism, but we feel it is time we clearly explain our company's purpose to you. We are secret associates of the police. Our mission is to steal back stolen goods from high-profile criminals and hand them back to the police. We have a new mission. We believe you would be the perfect person to lead it. If you accept, please come back to our office tomorrow at the same time for further explanation."

 

Her face washes out. It was too late to decline the offer. It has been ages since she last saw her little brother this happy. She decided to stay quiet. “Tonight, we celebrate,” she thinks.

 

The next day, she arrives at her new office when her interviewer explains everything about the mission.

 

After months of intense training, she was finally ready. Her mission? To infiltrate an abandoned factory and retrieve a priceless stolen necklace.

She was warned that  spy companies were also after it. She needed to be careful.

 

Finally, she arrives at the faraway abandoned factory. The sun hid from this part of town, away from all the rowdy crowds. Wind howls, merciless to the innocent trees hiding the surrounding area, keeping it hidden. Some may say it's detangling the trees' leaves, but Juliet believes it's penalizing the trees for  hiding such a revolutionary place.

 

Miles away, on a dark deserted highway, two little silhouettes are seen on opposite sides of the forest, walking away from a white van and into the forbidden forest, fully armed and ready for action. Both reach the factory simultaneously but enter from opposite sides. 

After making significant progress towards the necklace, she takes a glimpse at the room and finds various generously fleshed guards. She suddenly bumps into someone as she sits down. Instinctively, she reaches for her gun and points it at the figure.

 

"Woah there, relax. I don't work for this messed up company. They told me you'd be here. I'm Nick, I work for a different company. They hired me to get the necklace."

 

Juliet slowly lowers her weapon as her eyes narrowed.

 

"I'm Juliet. And listen, I’m here for the necklace. Once I have it, I’m gone. Got it? So if I were you, I’d leave while I still can."

 

Ignoring her threat, Nick said, "Okay, so… security here is insane.” Glancing towards the guards, he thinks. “We should work together to get the necklace. Then figure out the rest.”

 

"Hahaha, no, no way. I'm not teaming up with you! You're the enemy, I cannot be working with you!"

 

Nick sighs, rubbing his temples.

 

"Listen here, little miss ‘I-know-everything’ you have no other choice. We both know that if we leave this place empty-handed or get caught, we are dead! So, the smarter thing to do is to work together to get it and then act as if one of us got held hostage or something. I’ll tell you what—if you end up being the kidnapped one, I’ll make sure you ‘escape.’” He adds a wink.

 

Juliet stares at him intensely, then finally rolls her eyes "Okay, fine."

 

"Wow! That was way easier than I thought it would be!" he says, genuinely surprised.

 

"Yeah, well… let's just say I need the money."

 

Let the games begin.

2 angels

When the Angels Eavesdrop
BY CHASE AARON AGUDO

                “And Levin, when he proposed, went up straightaway out of the water: and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the face of Kitty shining like a dove, and lighting upon her: and, lo, a voice from Stiva, saying, this is my beloved friend, with whom I am well pleased!” bellowed Stepan Arkadyich, marching into the church nave holding a bottle of vodka in his left hand and two crystal shot glasses in his right.¹

                “Be quiet!” Levin hissed, aghast at his friend’s apparent sacrilege. “Can’t you see that we’re in a church? Deacon Khristianin will kill you—no, he’ll kill both of us!”

                Evening had fallen upon Moscow on the day before the wedding of Konstantine Levin and Katerina Shtcherbatsky. For an hour, Levin paced back and forth in the chancel after his turbulent confession to the deacon, hoping the church’s sanctity could help reconcile the spiritual disconnect between his doubt and his salvation; this contemplation, of course, was ruined by Stepan Arkadyich. 

                “Good!” the intruder grinned. “He’ll go to hell, and we’ll be in heaven, drunk!” 

                Irritated and amused by Oblonsky’s flippancy, Levin walked towards the front pew and sat down while his friend’s footsteps grew louder with every step. Just before handing Levin a filled glass, Stepan Arkadyich looked at him with a rueful smile, then shook his head and chuckled. 

                “Kitty is a fantastic woman, and extraordinarily lucky to have you, but, oh, what a terrible loss! Love is the best and worst thing to happen to a man, I believe. Matrimony has an awful habit of keeping a man tethered to a woman… especially with so many other—oh, forget it.” 

                “No, no,” Levin admonished, raising an eyebrow. “Oblonsky, finish that sentence.”

                “Patience, s’il te plaît,” said Stepan Arkadyich as he lowered to clink his glass against Levin’s. “Queens may be subordinate to kings, but they are often the reason why kingdoms fall.” 

                “Really, Stiva? Sometimes, I don't understand anything that comes out of your mouth.” 

                “Then reason with me! Underneath that moralistic manner of yours, I suspect, is life itself. Vigor, vivacity, virility—these gifts remain in men much longer than women! Why should we be stuck? Xenophon, the great philosopher and thinker, once said: ‘He who marries a beautiful woman in hopes of being happy with her knows not but that even she herself may be the cause of all his uneasiness.’ You should learn from him, Levin! Zealous commitment to one’s wife isn’t exactly a virtue, and besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have another woman on the side, you know…”

                All of a sudden, Levin forgot the name of the man standing in front of him. Bringing his hand to his mouth, the strange figure pressed his lips against his drinking glass, tilted his head upwards, and winced as he swallowed a transparent liquid. Cold sunlight from the setting sun beamed through the stained glass windows and reflected off the man’s cup; looking down, Levin saw his fingers wrapped around an identical container with the same sharp-smelling fluid. 

                Dropping his drink, Levin stood up to look at the man eye-to-eye. Everything Stepan Arkadyich had ever said relating to love and marriage should never be taken seriously, Levin knew, but these particular words cut him like the scornful pain one feels from tearing open a neglected wound. Given that the two men had known each other for years, Levin had chosen to ignore the cavernous distance separating him from Oblonsky, which grew with every single one of his acquiescences to his friend’s dalliances; now, everything about Stepan Arkadyich—his contentedly full belly, his careless demeanor, his careening affairs—became morally repulsive. 

                “How could you possibly say such a thing? I love that woman, damn it, Stiva, I love her! Just because you seem to enjoy mocking your own wife by running off with other women doesn’t mean I plan to do the same. Killing the life out of anything even remotely pure or meaningful, Stiva—that’s all you ever do!”

                Levin did not know that his mouth could ever pour out such anger. Mentioning Dolly would certainly inflame Stepan Arkadyich, but the words had already echoed throughout the nave, and it was too late to pull them back now. Nevertheless, Levin felt an inexplicable satisfaction from having said something so authentic, and he looked into the dark eyes of Oblonsky with newfound indignance.

                Opening his mouth to speak, Stepan Arkadyich was bewildered to find himself caught between surprise and guilt as he stared at Konstantine Levin. 

                “Pass the vodka,” Oblonsky croaked. “Quickly, before I become sober again.” 

                Reaching for the bottle was easy enough; Levin had more difficulty grasping that which was swirling around the mind of Stepan Arkadyich. So tense had the church become that it almost seemed to silence itself, as if the angels depicted on the stained glass windows were straining their ears to listen to the men’s conversation.

                “There was a time,” Stepan Arkadyich said as he swallowed his fourth serving of vodka, “when I thought you would never find a wife. Unless you learned to loosen up and stop caring so much about your damned morality, you could never be happy. Vronsky should have been the last straw—I could have sworn you wouldn’t have anything left! When you proposed to Kitty for the second time, however, I knew I was disastrously, monstrously wrong…” finished Oblonsky, and, as he began to choke on his tears, he realized that it was he who had been wrong about marriage, it was he who had been fooling himself, and it was he who had destroyed his relationship with Dolly. Xeric was the reserve from which Stepan Arkadyich sourced his love, and for the first time in his life, he shared a glimpse at the vast expanse of emotion held by the man less than a day away from being married. 

                “You’re a much better man than I am, Levin,” Stepan Arkadyich continued. “Zero times have I ever been truly attached to any one woman, did you know that? Anytime I look at Dolly, I don’t feel anything more than an expedient fondness. Berate me all you want; it won’t change the truth.”

                “Can’t you see all the harm you’ve caused for Dolly or your children? Don’t you feel any guilt?” questioned Levin as he sat back down.

                “Every day! Forget wanting to feel guilty, Levin, I can’t feel guilty! God has cursed me with indifference, don’t you understand? How does one breathe underwater? It’s impossible! Jealousy never hurt me because I’ve never loved anyone deeply enough to feel envious at all!” 

                Konstantine Levin was bewildered to find himself caught between surprise and guilt as he stared at Stepan Arkadyich. Love, in its unrelenting and almost cruel demands, had broken Levin down to his most rudimentary parts and left him with almost nothing; but as the wave crashes upon the stone to form the smoothest of surfaces, so had the weathering from Levin’s pain sculpted his soul to set free an unbreakable sense of self with which he could love untainted, uncompromised, and unmoved. Men like Stepan Arkadyich had chosen the most indulgent foundation upon which to base their love, squandering any chance of gaining familiarity with their deepest and truest selves because they had never been given, nor expressed, genuine affection; after all, could one blame the plant deprived of sunlight for reaching out in every direction to search for that which it could not recognize? No, Levin concluded, for he had cradled his solitude until it became a tonic from which to drink; Oblonsky had never known such sustenance.

                Offering the bottle back to his friend, one of the men became aware of a strangely warm sensation traveling down both sides of his face. Prince Stepan Arkadyich raised the cup to his lips and caught a taste of his salty tears before they disappeared into the vodka. Quiet, cold gusts of wind blew into the nave from the outside and aided in drying the last tears on his cheeks. Rising from the pew, Levin saw that his friend was shuddering. Shifting the bottle from his left hand to his right, he took the depleted cup from Stepan Arkadyich, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and began walking towards the door. 

                The moon had long begun its ascent into the sky when the two men emerged from the church gates. Under the silent stars, they walked without speaking; one was heavy with drink, the other was heavy with solemn sympathy. Vodka had the uncanny ability to dull one’s pain, Levin reflected, but as he bore the weight of a drunken, semiconscious Oblonsky on his arm, he knew it could just as easily become one’s prison.

                “When the priest tells you to kiss the bride, remember to close your eyes,” Stepan Arkadyich suddenly said, and as Konstantine Levin failed to keep the corners of his mouth from rising, both men threw their heads up in a cathartic mixture of laughter, relief, and understanding.

​

¹ A play on Matthew 3:16-17 (KJV).

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