The Paper Magician

Ceony covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a sob. How vivid that memory was, even with the years masking it from the rest of the world. How many nights after that incident had Ceony lain awake, wondering what would have happened had she arrived just a half hour earlier? For someone else, they would have blurred together, become a mass of days full of grief and tears.

But Ceony’s memory was perfect, and she had counted those nights. Seventeen. She remembered every hour spent crying, every nightmare of Anise’s white face and her bloodied arms, her glass eyes staring into nothing. She remembered every counseling session and every bad grade that followed.

The worst part was knowing everything—remembering everything. Everything but the reason why. Anise hadn’t even left a note. Even her own parents had been speechless at the funeral.

“Was it my fault?” Ceony asked, almost whispering. “Was it my fault she killed herself?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Was it your fault Lira and the others killed that family?”

She sucked in a long breath, swallowed, and murmured, “I forgive you.”

Shadow-Emery twitched.

“I forgive you, Emery,” Ceony repeated. “I’ve seen all of it, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t intend any of this to happen.” She blinked away tears and stifled a sob lurking deep in her throat. “But I forgive you. It’s okay now.”

He shifted. Warm hope sparked in Ceony’s chest. Something she had said had hit him. She took one step toward him.

He growled and seized her by her upper arm, flinging her back to the floor.

“You don’t have the power to forgive,” that low, unnatural voice spat.

“Then forgive yourself!” she shouted, pushing herself back up. She pressed her palm against the wall for support. “Everyone has a dark side! But it’s their choice whether or not they cultivate it. Don’t you understand? Lira’s exploited hers, but not you. Not you, Emery Thane.

“You’re a good person!” she exclaimed, her own voice ricocheting off the walls as Lira’s had moments before. “I’ve only known you less than a month and even I can see what a good person you are!”

Shadow-Emery retreated into the shadows.

“So let go,” she begged. “Let go of the hate, the anger, the sadness. And let go of me. I can’t help you if you don’t let go!”

The office around her flashed red and peach. A laborious PUM-Pom-poom filled the air, which became hotter, moister. Ceony blinked and found herself once more in the literal chamber of Emery’s heart, silent save for its waning beat. Empty, save for herself and the broken pieces of Fennel at her feet.

Dropping to her knees, Ceony collected the pieces of her paper companion with reverence, smoothing crumpled corners and folding them carefully along their original creases.

“You’re a good boy,” she whispered as she stacked the pieces one on top of another, filling her lungs to their limit with every breath to keep from crying. She was tired of crying, and like her mother had always said, crying solved nothing.

After setting Fennel into her bag, she pulled free a piece of bread and swallowed it half-chewed, enough to alleviate the hunger cramping her belly.

She eyed the valve across the carpet of skin and veins.

“One more,” she promised herself. “One more until the end. And even if there’s no door to freedom, at least you know you tried. One more, Ceony.”





CHAPTER 14



SHE PASSED THROUGH BLINDLY, pushing her tired limbs through the tunnel that constricted around her like the big snakes at the London Zoo. But as Ceony had decided with Shadow-Emery, she would not be the mouse. With a grunt and an extra shove with her left leg, she reached the other side of the valve.

Just like chamber three, the fourth chamber opened up already playing a vision, though this vision seemed . . . different. Ceony did not find herself in a room, garden, or city. She had a feeling that this place was not a memory, either. She had never seen this landscape before, and she had a distinct feeling that, outside of Emery’s heart, it didn’t exist.

Before her stretched miles and miles of dry ground—not quite desert, but not quite anything else, either. Just tired, bronze ground stretching in all directions, unbroken by mountains or rivers or forests. Not a single weed or mound marred its surface. It stretched forever until it met a gray-blue sky lined with pale cerise, a sky perpetually caught in the moments before sunrise. Nothing broke the sky, not a single cloud or strip of color, no birds or seedlings caught upon the wind. There was no wind.

Ceony smelled nothing, not even the scent of dust and earth, and she heard nothing outside of herself—no crawling creatures, no whistles, thunder, moans, threats. No weeping, no rain. No heartbeat. Silence surrounded her. Endless silence on an endless plane.

Only one thing disturbed the endlessness of the place. One thing, one very large thing that no heart-traveler could ever miss in her adventure.