The Fading Dusk

by Melissa Giorgio

  A tiny, milky-white stone clattered onto Leonid’s desk.

  We sat in frozen silence, staring at it. Leonid leaned forward, his chair creaking loudly and startling me badly. I dragged my eyes away from the stone to look at him. He was as stunned as I was.

  “Is that…” My mouth was dry and I swallowed hard. “Leonid, is that the Essence?”

  AS MOTIONLESS AS A STATUE, Leonid didn’t answer. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to do anything, I reached forward to touch the Essence.

  “Wait!” he said, his voice strained. “Do you think… I mean, should you be touching it?”

  I yanked my hand away as if I’d been burned. “Why? What’s going to happen when I touch it?”

  “I-I don’t know!”

  I stood up suddenly, stepping away from the desk. Leonid did the same, coming around to my side so he could stand next to me as we stared at the Essence together, waiting for it to do something.

  Moments ticked by, my heart beating a steady, fast rhythm. Next to me, Leonid was breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists. A bead of sweat trailed down the side of his face, disappearing under his collar.

  “Nothing’s happening,” I whispered. “Are you sure this is the Essence?”

  “No, I’m not sure. You’re the one who said it was, anyway!”

  “Well, what else could it be?” The priest had described it as a small, white stone. What sat on Leonid’s desk was a small, white stone.

  Leonid shot me an accusing glare. “I think the better question is, what are you doing with the Essence, Lark?”

  “Me?” I burst out. “Surely you don’t believe…” His lip twitched and I hit him on the shoulder. “Leonid!”

  “Apologizes,” he said, not sounding very sorry at all. “My theory was correct, it seems.”

  “Which one? You sprout so many that it’s hard to keep track.”

  He glared at me. “I said Bantheir would place it in a well-hidden spot. What’s more hidden than your beloved necklace? Even you didn’t know of its existence!”

  I was still holding the lark in my hand. Holding it up to better examine the small compartment on the bottom, I shook my head. “I never knew such a thing existed, and I’ve had this since I was a baby!”

  “May I?” Leonid took it from me, squinting as he studied it. “Are you sure it’s the same piece?”

  “Yes. See this?” I pointed to a small chip on the bird’s left wing. “I dropped it once, in a courtyard, when I was eight. I searched and searched the ground for the missing piece, hoping I could glue it back on, but I couldn’t find it.”

  “And you accused me of chipping the bottom,” he said dryly.

  “I figured you hurled the thing against the wall because you hated me so much.”

  Leonid shook his head vehemently. “Lark, I never hated you.” He paused. “You very nearly succeeded in driving me insane, but hatred was never a factor.”

  “Thanks… I think.”

  We turned back to the Essence. “This tiny little thing is the cause of so much trouble,” Leonid mused. “How can this be the key to immortality?”

  “I’m going to touch it,” I declared.

  “Are you certain—”

  I reached out and placed a hand on the cool, smooth surface. Leonid sucked in a sharp breath as we stood there, waiting. When nothing happened, I picked it up. It felt no different than a pebble, its surface washed smooth by the flowing water from a river.

  I carried it over to the lamp, Leonid at my heels. The light shined through the cloudy interior, turning it gray. It was about the size of the tip of my pinky and weighed next to nothing. I wondered if it would crack if I dropped it.

  “This fragile thing is worth killing for?” I asked, my voice trembling. “This pebble makes you immortal?”

  “I’ve found it wise not to judge things based on their appearances.” Leonid shot me an appraising look, making me wonder if he was still talking about the Essence. Reaching over, he took the stone from me and placed it back on the desk. “This changes everything.”

  As the meaning of his words crashed down on me, a sob escaped my lips before I could control myself. Leonid shot me a worried look, but I shook my head and turned away, leaving both him and the Essence behind me. I crossed the room to the map, staring at the dots until I could control myself.

  Leonid was right, this did change everything. Everything Sorel had said was true—Bantheir had stolen the Essence from them. And if that was true, then what about—

  I staggered forward as the familiar pain swept over me, colliding with the wall. Leonid caught me before I fell, half-carrying me over to the chair. “Lark, stop it!” He gripped me tightly by the shoulders, his face inches from mine. Through the agony I concentrated on his dark eyes, wide with panic. “Don’t think about it, all right?” he commanded, giving me a small shake.

  “How can I not?! He killed—” My words were cut off by a shriek of pain, and Leonid pulled me to him, cradling me against his strong chest. I buried my face in his shirt, sobbing through the throbbing. The pain had always been centered in my stomach, but now it spread through my entire being, as if my insides were on fire.

  Leonid dragged me off the chair so I sat on his lap, his arms circling around my back. He was speaking softly to me, but his words were like the low buzz of a fly. All I could focus on was the heat and the pain and the fact that Bantheir was a murderer.

  When I let out a small moan, Leonid broke away so he could cup my face in his hands. “Lark, look at me. Look at me!”

  I blinked a few times to clear my vision and did as he asked. He was pale and frightened, but his grip was strong and steady. Leonid wouldn’t let go. Leonid wouldn’t let me face this alone. I relaxed slightly, and a glimmer of relief shone in his eyes. “That’s right. I’m here. Take it easy, all right? Deep breaths.” I did what he said, and he joined me, breathing in when I did, and exhaling at the same time. There was something truly intimate about the experience, as if we had somehow joined together and became one being.

  A new, different heat washed through me, replacing the pain and making me feel light-headed. My gaze dipped to his lips and then back to his eyes, which seemed to have darkened even more as he studied me as carefully as I studied him. His hands slipped from my face to my shoulders, but he made no move to push me off his lap. “Better?” he murmured, the word vibrating through me.

  I nodded, wishing we could remain like that forever. No murders, no Essence, nothing but a boy and girl sitting on the floor, limbs wrapped together as they shyly waited for the other to make the first move that would change everything.

  He swallowed hard, looking nervous. “Lark.” My heart thudded rapidly and I wondered if he could feel it racing. Was his beating just as fast? “Lark, I—”

  The door to Leonid’s quarters banged open, shattering the safe haven we had managed to build in the face of uncertainty. In one fluid movement, Leonid pulled the two of us to our feet and shoved his body in front of me, a knife already in hand.

  Leonid squinted into the corridor, lowering his hand. “Vern? What are you doing back so soon?” He broke off with a curse as Vernen stumbled into the room, supported by Aden.

  Both men were filthy, their clothes torn and bloodstained. I shoved my chair toward them and Vernen sat down gratefully. Aden stood behind him, his skin a chalky color as he visibly shook.

  “What happened?” Leonid asked, practically growling. His hands curled into fists as he took in the men, scanning their bodies for injuries. Aden was favoring his left arm, but Vernen, to my relief, merely looked shaken up.

  It took him a few moments to catch his breath. “We were… ambushed. It came… out of nowhere. People were dying, Leon. Aden—if Aden hadn’t shoved me aside, I would have been killed, too.”

  I stared at Aden in astonishment. He showed no signs of hearing what Vernen had said as he stared into space, green eyes wide and unblinking. A flood of conflicting emotions ran through me. I wanted to sta
y angry at Aden—it was easier to despise him when I had no contact with him—but to see him looking so scared, like he would break apart at any moment, made it hard for me to do so. What he’d done wasn’t something that could be forgiven easily, but I thought, maybe, with time, I might be able to…

  “Was it Bantheir?” Leonid asked, completely glossing over the fact that Aden had saved his best friend’s life. In fact, he hadn’t even acknowledged him; it seemed I was the only one who was willing to try to forgive Aden.

  Vernen shook his head. “We didn’t see. It happened so quickly, Leon. One minute nothing, the next, pure panic. Fire everywhere, people screaming, and so much blood…” He blanched, looking like he was moments away from being sick. I wanted to rush over and hug Vernen. I’d never seen him look that way before, and it unnerved me.

  Leonid walked over to his desk and picked up both the Essence and the lark. When he placed the stone back inside the bird, I made a noise of protest. “Sorry, Lark, but I guess I’m not giving this back to you, after all.” He slipped the necklace into his pocket, looking grim. “If the temptation of the Essence can lure Bantheir away, I have to try.”

  “No,” I burst out, finally finding my voice as I realized what he intended to do. “That’s suicide, Leonid! You can’t offer yourself up like that!”

  “Suicide implies that I’m going to get myself killed.” Leonid’s expression turned fierce and I shuddered. Gone was the look of tenderness, replaced by something wickedly deadly. “I have no intention of dying tonight, Lark.” He went into his bedroom, returning with his coat and sword. “Vernen, I need you to take her back to her cell and stay with her.” He leaned over, so the two were eye-to-eye. “Do you understand?”

  Vernen looked conflicted. “Why can’t I go with you?”

  “You’ve done enough tonight, my friend.”

  “Why can’t I go with you?” I burst out, angry that Leonid was talking like I wasn’t even in the room. “I’m not going back to my cell! Are you insane?”

  He whirled on me, eyes flashing dangerously. I instinctively took a step backward, frightened by what I saw in his expression. “I am not wasting my time arguing with you. Go to your cell and remain there until I get back.”

  I was struck with a chilling premonition; visions of Leonid rushing off to be killed in his quest for revenge. “Leonid, I’m begging you, don’t do this.”

  His eyes flashed with regret before he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

  “Leonid!”

  VERNEN CLOSED THE DOOR TO my cell with a loud clank, the noise echoing off the walls as if it were mocking me. You’re trapped, it seemed to say, stuck here while Leonid fights to the death—

  No!

  “This is ridiculous!” I shouted at Vernen. “Why are you locking me up?” I’d tried to chase after Leonid, but Vernen had grabbed me, all but carrying me to my cell and depositing me in a heap on the floor. I’d been too stunned to react—Vernen was normally so gentle—and could only watch as he locked me in like the criminal they’d always insisted I wasn’t.

  Vernen shook his head miserably. “Irina, you know I wouldn’t, but he ordered—”

  I jumped to my feet and pounded my fists against the bars, sending spikes of pain up and down my arms. “Why? How could you let him go alone, Vernen?!”

  “It was bad enough letting him go; I wasn’t about to let you join him!” He closed his eyes, as if in pain.

  Icy fear coiled in my stomach as I realized Vernen was afraid. And if he was afraid, then that meant there was a chance Leonid…

  “Go after him,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “Go, Vernen! You got me back in the cell. I’m clearly not going anywhere, so go after him!”

  He rested his forehead against the bars, his eyes still shut. “I can’t.”

  “Why not? Because he ordered you to stay here to, what, protect me?” I reached a hand through the bars and touched him on the shoulder. “Why, Vernen? Why do I need protecting?”

  “Irina…” Vernen sighed. He opened his blue eyes to regard me, looking conflicted, like he wanted to tell me something he wasn’t allowed to say. My heart lurched. What did Vernen know?

  “Tell me,” I begged him.

  He squared his shoulders and opened his mouth to speak. “The thing is, you’re—”

  In the distance, we heard a shout, and then the world exploded.

  I went flying, landing hard on my bottom as the prison shook with the force of the explosion. Vernen collided with the bars of my cell but managed to stay on his feet. We locked gazes as my ears rung. “What happened?” I asked, speaking loudly.

  “I think—I think the front end of the prison blew up.” Slowly, Vernen unsheathed his sword and turned, planting his feet firmly against the ground, preparing himself for another explosion. My mind was spinning. The prison blew up? How was that even possible?

  “Irina… Irina…”

  I whirled around, squinting into the shadows, certain I’d heard something. My hand automatically reached for my necklace, wishing for its solid comfort against my skin. The awful premonition I’d felt earlier returned twofold. Teeth chattering, I hugged myself. There was nothing I could do but watch and wait.

  We heard the footsteps first. A soft tapping that grew louder as it crept closer. Vernen adjusted his grip on his sword, his body tense as he readied himself to spring into action. When the figure entered the room, I let out a gasp, flinging myself to the front of the cell and rattling the bars.

  “Bantheir!”

  My master halted, his face twisting into a smile. His brown hair was wild and windswept, like he hadn’t had a chance to brush it since I’d last seen him, and his normally trim goatee had grown out into a scraggly beard. His clothes were the same ones I’d last seen him in, but they were covered in dirt and torn at the knees and elbows. “Ah, Irina,” he said pleasantly, like we had just met up for tea at the café. “There you are, my dear. I’ve been searching and searching for you.” His smile slipped away as he regarded the prison. “They locked you up in here?” He spat the word like a curse. “How dare they do that to my precious Irina! It’s time to take you out of here.”

  “Not another step,” Vernen growled. “Stay back, magician.”

  Bantheir lifted his two hands. “Or else what, soldier? You’ll kill me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Didn’t you just blow up the prison?” Vernen asked incredulously. When Bantheir responded by shrugging his shoulders, Vernen made a noise of disgust. “And what about the fact that you murdered innocent people across Dusk, not to mention who knows how many more today?” Vernen’s arms were steady as he held his sword, his voice thick with emotion.

  “No, I haven’t,” Bantheir answered Vernen, but he was speaking to me. His blue eyes locked onto mine, refusing to let me go. I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t. “Irina, I haven’t killed anyone.”

  Vernen’s voice was low and insistent. “Irina, don’t listen to him.”

  A pathetic whimper escaped from my lips. This was Bantheir! The man who raised me as if I was his own daughter! Now he’d come to rescue me, something no one else, not even Leonid, would do.

  At the thought of the dark-haired captain, I flinched, hating myself for directing an angry thought at him. My head felt heavy, crowded, like there were too many thoughts cramming into my skull, and I didn’t know what to focus on. I broke my gaze from Bantheir’s and looked at the ground, hearing him curse. The heavy feeling intensified, bringing with it a dull stabbing right between my eyes, and I cried out, certain my head was about to split in two.

  “Leave her alone!” Vernen shouted before charging forward, his sword aimed at Bantheir’s chest.

  The magician lifted a hand. Vernen dropped to his knees and rolled to his right, barely missing being clipped by a dark wave of magic. I watched, stunned. Bantheir had just wielded magic. They’d told me, again and again, that magic had been a factor, but I’d refused to listen. Even now, seeing it firsthand, I still
couldn’t comprehend it.

  My world had shifted so severely, I no longer knew which way was up and which was down.

  Vernen, on the ground, pulled a knife from his belt and flung it toward Bantheir. The magician deflected it with magic, but Vernen wasted no time in responding. Jumping up on the bench, he threw another one, twisting his body to avoid being slammed by a second wave of magic. The second knife succeeded in grazing Bantheir on the arm, and he hissed his displeasure.

  “Enough!” he said, his eyes flashing. He clapped his hands in front of him and a flash of white light shot out, like lightning, hitting Vernen square in the chest. His body went flying across the room, colliding with one of the empty cells to my right with a hollow bang. I screamed as Vernen crumpled to the ground, willing him to move.

  He didn’t.

  “Now then.” Bantheir rubbed his hands together and strolled over to me. “Time to get you out of here, Irina.”

  I backed away from the door, shaking my head. “N-No, stay away—”

  “Shh,” he said, raising a finger to his lips. Again his eyes caught mine, and again my head felt weighty, like in the moment right before I slipped into slumber. “Don’t be frightened, Irina. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re much too important for that.”

  What he was saying was significant, but I couldn’t figure out how to ask him what he meant. I stood there like a puppet, obediently nodding my head as he came closer and reached for the bars. “Let’s open this up—”

  The moment he wrapped his fingers around the bars, they lit up with a blazing yellow light, brighter than the sun. Bantheir screamed and wrenched his hands away, smoke wafting from the burnt flesh. He let out a string of curses—words I’d never heard him utter before—wrapping the tender skin in the folds of his shirt.

  The foggy feeling washed away, and I looked around. “What happened?”

  “There’s a damn ward around this cell!” he spat. I didn’t recognize the fury on his face. It was as if the longer I watched, the more Bantheir transformed into a stranger.