As if to illustrate her point, they squeezed through a group of people dressed up as different “Links” from The Legend of Zelda: Triforce Heroes. All three of the cosplayers stopped what they were doing, however, and looked up at Keeran with interest.
Violet continued, “Shade-nigma isn’t supposed to be at PAX until the last day, and no one would expect him to hang around the convention beforehand. Trust me, they think you’re just someone who wants to be him.”
She did have a point there. Most panel speakers stayed at their hotel when they weren’t expected to make appearances, or they flew in the second before the panel and flew back out again the moment they had a chance to. It was very much an “Elvis has left the building” kind of thing for the people who desperately wanted to see them.
Which made Keeran smile again. Because what he had planned that night would even that score a little bit in favor of the gamers. And they deserved it, after all. They were the reason these panel speakers were famous in the first place.
At last, they reached the stairs that led to the floor where the panel he was taking her to was going to be held.
“Holy shit,” mouthed Violet.
The line trailed down four flights of stairs that wound to the third floor of the building. That same line then traveled around in a massive half-circle from one side of the building to the other until it reached the double doors that would allow people entrance into the theater.
“Yeah, Markiplier is rather popular,” Keeran said, as he quickly figured the logistics of what he was going to do next. There were shadows in each corner of the stair platforms. But they were small. It would take some maneuvering, and some kind of decoy. He was working on what that decoy was going to be – when the panel’s main speaker, “Markiplier,” himself walked in through the front doors of the building, surrounded by PAX Prime “enforcers.”
The crowd of PAX attendees suddenly swelled, and like a giant body of colorful water, they moved toward the railing overlooking the courtyard below, where Mark and his companions were stepping into the foyer.
Markiplier, whose real name was Mark Fischbach, stopped mid-way across the carpet and looked up to wave at his fans. The dark-haired man flashed a trademark white grin, and the crowd went wild – giving Keeran his opportunity.
“Come on – in here.”
He waited until the crowd nearest he and Violet had their collective backs turned and stepped into the shadow afforded by the awning, pulling his queen in with him.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Markiplier, or Mark Fischbach, was an internet personality specializing in what was termed “Let’s Play” media and humor in general. Mark and a band of friends, who were to appear on this panel, would basically film themselves playing various video games, making jokes about it, and reacting to it with the kind of drama rivaled only by Sesame Street’s Grover.
And the fans loved it. At this juncture, the Markiplier team had approximately ten million subscribers, and that number was climbing every day.
Keeran had lived through a lot of things, seen a lot of things, and learned a lot of things. And one of the things he’d learned was that sometimes, the most unexpected phenomena will change the world. You would probably bet on a heart-rending speech, or a public assassination. War, bombings, elections, laws being made and laws being broken. You’d put money on the world changing with time, in general. But who would have foretold that watching someone play Minecraft while intoxicated would touch a soul somewhere that was lonely? Who would have known that the kid being bullied, the young adult on the verge of suicide, or the socially awkward genius would find some sort of solace in laughing along with stupid shit performed by a man in his underwear playing Five Nights at Freddy’s?
Not many would have bet on it. And yet, that’s exactly what had happened.
To millions. No – billions.
Because with humanity, you just never can tell.
And this was why Keeran had decided to do this here and to do this now, in the audience of the Markiplier panel at PAX Prime – in front of what he knew would be billions of viewers. If you were going to do something, do it right. Do it big.
Or go home.
He’d chosen two aisle seats about four rows from the stage. It was just enough in the shadows that he could remain more or less hidden until the right time, but close enough that Violet could see everything very clearly.
The extra large auditorium was full now, and a screen lowered from the top of the stage to thrill the audience with a preview for an upcoming Star Wars game. When the trailer was completed, the crowd cheered, but it was clear they were restless for the show to start.
At last, an announcer welcomed everyone to the PAX Prime Markiplier panel – and now the crowd really cheered. The voice introduced several people on the panel, each of whom was nearly as famous as Mark Fischbach himself. Finally, Mark stepped out onto the stage, and it became clear that he’d been the announcer the entire time.
The panel was conducted in a questions-and-answers forum, introducing texted-in questions from those in the audience, which panel members would take turns answering. Keeran had to admit the team up on stage had a knack for entertaining. When someone in the audience asked each panel member to do a cartwheel – they did. Despite the fact that two of them didn’t know how to do cartwheels, and one landed flat on his ass twice. Keeran caught Violet laughing out loud on a good number of occasions, and every time he glanced over and caught a hint of that smile, he knew he was the luckiest man on earth.
Or, at least, he was about to be.
The final fifteen minutes of panel time came around, and Mark expertly drew the question-and-answers session to a close. Then he opened it up to a different kind of question-and-answer session:
“Is there anyone in the audience here today who would like to ask a very special someone in their lives a very special question?”
As there was with every panel on which he asked this, there were a few people who just didn’t get what it was he was looking for. Someone in row four asked what game he was going to play next. Another person asked what his favorite game was. Someone in row twenty-seven asked what color he was going to dye his hair for his next charity.
Each time a person in the audience raised their hand, the panel members grew excited. And each time the question was not the one they were looking for – that very special question you would ask that very special someone in your life – the panel grew more agitated and disappointed.
Mark ran his hand through his thick, black hair. It was something the man did quite often. “Okay, listen people, this is a question that you would ask one person and you would do so with a ring!” He made an “o” with his fingers to illustrate.
Keeran thought of the millions, if not billions, of people who were at home watching this live, and the way they were most likely rolling their eyes as they laughed right about now.
“Does anyone in the audience have a ring,” Mark re-iterated, “that they would like to use to ask someone very special a very special question?”
Keeran smiled and rode it out. Timing was everything. And now that Violet was completely enthralled by what was happening, it was easier to hide his intent from her and hence easier to enjoy the show.
A few more people made the mistake of asking the wrong question in the audience, and it was apparent that Mark Fischbach and his team of friends were all but ready to lose hope. They were laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, but they were also disappointed, that much was clear.
Keeran’s smile became determined. He stood up.
Now’s the time.
The crowd quieted down a bit as Keeran held up his hand. Between his thumb and forefinger, he held a ring of pure diamond. It had been carved from the cap of an acorn diamond and reflected the overhead lighting in the auditorium, glittering madly.
Someone called Mark’s name. The people up on stage turned to look. Mark shielded his eyes from the overhead lights –
And a spotlight fell on Keeran.
The crowd hushed completely.
Keeran could see the recognition dawn on Mark’s features. Seconds after, it dawned on the faces of the other panel members as well.
“Holy shit, is that….”
Someone whispered the name Shade-nigma. It was joined by others. Soon, the entire auditorium was twittering, and Mark straightened. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Shade-nigma!”
Keeran supposed a consummate gamer would know the real thing when he saw it. So Keeran smiled as everyone around him went mad. Fortunately for him, they maintained enough couth not to mob him as he calmly reached down and took a very stunned Violet’s hand.
She stood on what he could tell were numb legs and stepped out into the aisle after him, amidst the screams and applause of thousands of crazed people.
“Dude, I can’t believe you’re actually here at my panel!” exclaimed Mark. Keeran turned to look up at him. “Are you – are you serious about that ring?”
The crowd forced itself into another quiet, and it was obvious every single person there was holding their breath behind a silenced squee.
“I am,” said Keeran, his voice projected magically. It filled the auditorium with deep resonance and stunned the already quiet crowd. He then turned back to Violet, who was staring up at him with very wide, very beautiful eyes.
With steady deliberation, Keeran reached up, grasped the edge of his black hood, and pushed it back from his face.
Now his voice alone wasn’t enough to keep exclamations from going up through the crowd. No one had ever seen Shadenigma’s face. He had never revealed himself to the public – until now. The ensuing roar was enormous.
So he used a bit of magic, sent it out through the shadows, and quelled the noise just enough that he could do the one thing he wanted to do more than anything else in that moment.
Well, almost more than anything else. That other thing, he would do just as soon as he could get Violet back to his bedroom.
“Violet Kellen,” he began. Again, his voice traveled over the crowd, transfixing and powerful. He lowered himself gracefully to one knee, and held the glittering ring before her. “Will you have ultimate mercy upon my soul, and do me the greatest and noblest honor of becoming my wife?”
Violet’s tall, slim body trembled, but like the brave and strong woman that he knew her to be, she drew a shaking breath, leaned over, and placed her hands over his. Very quietly, so that only he could hear, she said, “You had me at candy butterflies.” Then, much more loudly, so that the entire auditorium could hear, she exclaimed, “Yes! A thousand times, yes!”
Keeran’s chest swelled. He stood, slid his arm around her waist, and drew her against his body to claim her lips with his.
“Oh my God!” Mark exclaimed. His companions, Jack, Wade, and Bob, joined in with exclamations of disbelief and jubilation. “I can’t believe this is actually happening, everyone! Shadenigma has revealed his identity right here on my panel! And proposed!”
Keeran’s heart pumped. The shadows drew long. And his kiss deepened.
Markiplier beamed up on stage. “And she said yes!”
Epilogue
The Painted Hills looked quite different on this sunny, crisp afternoon than they normally did. Rather than the desolate, lonely wind that usually inhabited the spaces between the rock formations, there were people.
Five thousand of them, give or take. Each was dressed in dark garb, their heads lowered, their hands clasped before them to hold a flower. Every flower of every kind from every corner of the world was there in that desert that afternoon.
Only five amongst the thousands were dressed in colors other than gray or black. These were children, tow-headed, freckled, between the ages of five and nine. Instead, these two girls and three boys wore vibrant clothing in every brilliant hue offered by the visible spectrum.
The children wore these colors because, after the storm that had been the death of their kind, they were the rainbow of hope that yet remained.
No one spoke a word. Not one in the five thousand there uttered a single sound. The world was one of quiet, the mood somber. One by one, these people, from all thirteen of the realms of magic, stepped forward. They approached the painted hill nearest them and bent to place the flower at its base.
Over and over, they did this. Until the field that was colored forever in death was once more vibrantly painted in life.
*****
“Bones, I believe this is the most brilliant tea setting I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying,” said Lalura Chantelle in her slow, ancient and weathered words. Her tone was radiant with sincerity, and her blue, blue eyes sparkled with warmth.
Bones’ pale, gaunt face grew bright with gratitude. He’d gone out of his way to make certain this particular setting was the best that he could possibly create, as he knew how important tea was to her. Of course, she would be grateful for the work he had put into it. She always was. There was no more observant or gracious guest than Lady Chantelle.
He was too old to blush, but if he’d still been capable of it, he would have done so just then. Instead, he bowed low and smiled gallantly. “You are most gracious, my lady.” He poured them both a steaming cup with deft expertise, then smoothed down his coat before gracefully taking a seat across from his guest.
“I wish I could drink tea,” said Pi where he safely crackled in a fire in the hearth – one that was not blue, but orange and red.
“Yes, well, I should love to be capable of touching fire,” responded Bones as he lifted his tea cup to his lips.
“Fair enough,” said Pi.
“Not really,” interrupted Lalura. “After all, Bones, you are capable of touching fire.”
His eyes grew wide, and his brows arched. He lowered his cup and shot his guest a look. She chuckled in her wizened voice and drank her tea.
“What?” asked Pi, clearly confused.
“That was naughty of you,” he told Lalura in gentle jest. She laughed again, then lowered her tea cup.
“This is divine, as usual.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he said, glad to change the subject so the fire elemental would cease in his questioning. “Believe it or not, it’s one of Wolfram Lovelace’s concoctions.”
“Oh?” She chuckled again. “Oh my. This must be why I’m giddy.”
“Indeed. The man knew how to make all kinds of drinks. Even Tenebris.”
This brought Lalura’s chin up. “Speaking of the only man who can drink Tenebris.” She leaned forward slowly and replaced her cup on the tray so that she could fold her hands together. Her expression became one of genuine curiosity. “How are the Shadow King and his new queen faring?”
“I’m sure you already know,” Bones said, as he was well aware that Lalura Chantelle never went without knowing much for long. “However, I welcome the conversation. As it so happens, Miss Kellen is a most invaluable addition to our family. She has… completed the master in a way that takes a great load off my mind.”
“You mean the oldest Pan Shadow in existence finally found his match, huh?” Pi interrupted loudly.
Bones pressed his very thin lips together in irritation and shot the fire elemental a warning look. The flame shortened. He did that a lot around Bones.
But Lalura’s soft, scratchy laugh drew Bones’ attention and spared Pi any further chastising. Bones continued, “She has not only allowed the master to strengthen the borders to the Shadow Realm and the Dark… she has even joined the Nimbus.”
Lalura’s eyes glittered.
“Ah. I see you were indeed already aware of that fact.”
“I think she will be an enormous help,” Lalura said. “Once Violet sets out to find someone, she doesn’t really give up easily.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Bones agreed. “They’re out now, in fact,” he said as he turned his gaze to the window and the night and full moon beyond. “Hunting.”
The couple grew silent, as did the fire elemental for once.
Out there in the darkness beyond the glass, a wolf howled. It was a haunting sound, a desperately lonely cry.
But this time, a second wolf’s long and low call gave it answer.
Bones smiled. All was good with his world.
The Legend of the Shadow People
(from Shadow Workings, by Wolfram Lovelace)
Legends tell of a land beyond the Unlit Forest that is inhabited by the shadows of mortals. These are not to be confused with Shades, the dark fae who live in the Twixt between the Seelie and Unseelie Realms. Instead, shadows are just that, the dark and formless twins of their mortals. In the night, the shadows of the mortal realm wait until their corporeal bodies are asleep before leaving them to join each other in a world of their own.
There, they eat and drink, laugh, love, and live – until morning, when they must return to the mortal realm. Should the sun rise before they are once more reunited with their bodies, the connection is severed, and the shadow loses its way, forgetting where it left its mortal.
The relationship between a mortal and its shadow is symbiotic; the mortal sustains the shadow, the shadow gives the mortal its personality. In the absence of its shadow, the mortal body will form a new one, a second shadow grown from the root edges of the one that abandoned it. However, this new shadow lacks substance. It is but a sliver of the darkness that it replaces, and leaves the mortal incomplete. Hence, it is called just that, a sliver. It is two-dimensional and harmless, but it offers no sustenance, rather like water to a starving soul.
A sinumbra, or mortal without its true shadow, will wither. Night by night, it will slowly deteriorate, often becoming depressed, lethargic, and physically ill. Many die from weakened immune systems, and the worst cases may end in suicide.
The unfortunately severed shadow itself is known as a sinecorp, or Pan Shadow amongst those in the Shadow Realm. The Pan becomes a desperate creature who searches endlessly for the mortal that once gave it life. This desperation relentlessly grows. Some Pan Shadows turn reckless and dangerous in this frantic hunt. The worst of them, those who had once been adjoined to the most powerful souls, will push the boundaries of the Shadow Realm, breaking its most cardinal law in order to take mortal form so they may walk in the mortal realm.
The Shadow King (The Kings Book 7) Page 18
