The Glass Magician

“Do you know how an Excisioner bonds, Ceony?”


“Grath, no!” Ceony cried, pushing herself up. Her arms turned to fire. New rivers of blood burst from the skin on her back, ringing around her ribs and torso.

“Link to me as I link to you through my years, until the day I die—”

Ceony grabbed the antique mirror and pulled herself to her feet.

“And become earth,” Grath finished.

A choking sound emanated from Delilah’s throat. Her eyes widened, and blood began to pour from her nostrils. She stared at Grath, fright emanating from her gaze, until her eyes rolled back into her head.

Grath released her, and she went limp in the chair.

“No!” Ceony screamed, running for her. “Delilah, no! No!”

Grath swung his arm out, colliding with Ceony’s chest. She fell backward, shoving the shards of glass in her back even deeper into her skin. She cried out and sputtered, tasting iron on her lips. Shadows bordered her vision.

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” Grath said, flexing and unflexing his hand. He smiled and turned to Mg. Aviosky.

Ceony’s body pulsed with pain. She struggled to stand as Grath neared Mg. Aviosky, but her limbs went limp. Too much. Never had she been so torn and tattered; never had she hurt like this, inside and out.

She stared at Delilah, who looked little more than a paper doll.

She looked at the shards of glass surrounding her, speckling the floorboards like misshapen diamonds.

Speckling the floorboards.

The wooden floorboards.

Ceony had no paper, but she had this.

Pressing her bloodied palm to the floor, she murmured, barely audible even to her own ears, “Material made by earth, your handler summons you. Unlink to me as I link through you, unto this very day.”

She pressed the same hand to herself and whimpered, “Material made by man, I summon you. Link to me as I link to you, unto this very day.”

She pushed herself up on her elbow, her spirit somewhere distant, far away from the hot, searing pain of her injuries. She reached for a large shard of glass and clutched it in her hands, its edges cutting into her fingers.

Grath stopped before Aviosky and pulled apart her blouse, then used his knife to slice through her camisole, revealing her chest. Her heart.

“Material made by man,” Ceony said, almost more in her head than out loud, “your creator summons you. Link to me as I link to you through my years, until the day I die and become earth.”

The glass tingled in her fingers. Delilah’s glass. It had worked.

Grath pulled back his hand.

Ceony’s eyes darted between the mirrors. She saw her bloodied shoulder in a round one just beside Grath’s head, reflected from the antique mirror against the wall.

She remembered Delilah sitting across from her at the bistro, bubbly and alive, so alive, laughing at the prank she had pulled with the makeup compact. Remembered her explanation of the spell.

Turning to the antique mirror, which she had already touched, Ceony whispered “Reflect” and concentrated on Lira as she had first seen her, a beauty in Emery’s kitchen, black clothes hugging her perfect curves, the twisted ruby smile on her lips. She imagined Lira’s chocolate-colored curls and the way they’d framed her face and spilled over her shoulders. She remembered the dark glint to her eyes, the vials of blood hanging off her belt.

Sure enough, the antique mirror produced a perfect reflection of Lira, and the round mirror picked up the image of her face in turn.

Grath noticed. He hesitated, spying Lira’s reflection in the corner of his eye. He spun, perhaps expecting her to be standing right behind him. Perhaps expecting her to be cured.

Turning his back to Ceony.

Ceony pushed off the ground, growling through the pain. She collided into Grath and dug the shard of glass in her hand into his back, right below his rib cage.

“Shatter!” she cried.

The glass shattered in her hands, breaking into dozens of pieces beneath Grath’s skin.

Grath choked. He grabbed Ceony by the hair and threw her off him; she collided with the floor again and shrieked as spilled glass mangled her already bloodied arm.

Grath stumbled into Mg. Aviosky, grabbing at her for support, but his legs gave out from under him. He collapsed at Delilah’s feet. The glass in his body had cut him too deep, too quickly. He hadn’t prepared a Healing spell beforehand.

The shadows lacing Ceony’s vision expanded, sucking color from the room. Her own blood looked gray, as if melting clouds had smeared over her skin.

She crawled to the nearest mirror, which sat just beside the table covered in sand. Grunting, she touched her fingers to it, leaving prints of red against her reflection.