Dad was not amused. He grabbed a beer and emptied it in one go. His cheeks were red and his frown had turned into a pout. The effects of the purple cake must be wearing off.
"He should declare his intentions first. I'll meet with him myself."
Huh. Well, that would prove difficult, since I don't think Jester is aware that he had any intentions to declare at all. Dad seems to be forgetting that I am still in the 'unrequited crush' phase of our relationship. Even calling it a 'relationship' was seriously stretching the boundaries of the word.
This was getting quite embarrassing.
"Dad, I think we should discuss this when there's actually something more substantial between us to talk about. I mean, I think I like him, but he doesn't know that yet." I winked at Harry, who was chuckling silently in the corner.
"Mister Rosche, Madam Josefa, Diane. Thanks for keeping us company. I think we should be leaving now."
"I'm not leaving until you answer me, Alisa. Why him?"
"You know I'm a sucker for pretty boys," I said lightly. "I grew up with a sorry-looking mug like you and my brothers, of course I'd go for someone cute."
For a moment I thought he would persist with the questions. If he did, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to explain it properly, without him thinking I had lost my mind or something. But then he chuckled at my insult, and patted my head. "Alright, alright. I'll let you be for now. You always get what you want, sweetheart. So I guess I should prepare myself for the worst." He gave a mock shudder.
Harry helped him up and they both left the room, looking very much like any common drunkard stumbling home from the bar. As I stood to follow, Madam Josefa gently took me by the arm and held me back. I say 'gently' because that was her intention, but she really has a solid grip for an old lady.
"You look very surprised about this turn of events." It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.
I smiled. "I got to meet a living legend, became privy to some important State secret, and got a favourable prediction about my love life. I'd say it's quite plenty for one night."
"You're a slick one, aren't you?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Liar," she said, grinning at me. "It's not polite to lie to the elderly."
I glanced in the direction where my father and the others disappeared to, wondering if I should risk it. There was something I've been wanting to ask Madam Josefa the moment I realized who she was. I'll be leaving for New York in a few hours, and there's no telling when I would be able to see her again. Besides, the apocalypse is coming. Why should I hesitate now?
"Madam Josefa. Are you the one who set my Limits?"
The old woman smiled at me kindly. She let go of my arm and dug into the pocket of her dress. She pulled out a rectangular black stone, about the size of my palm and handed it to me. One side, engraved into the stone and outlined in golden ink, was an eye with a six-pointed star in the middle where the iris would be. "When he opens up his heart to you, give him this. It's a wishing stone. Tell him to use it only when he is at his most desperate. When he has nothing left to lose."
I took the stone. But when she moved to turn away, I grabbed her hand. "Answer me. Please."
Madam Josefa sighed. "You know, this is what puzzles me about you. You do so many unnecessary things. It's fine if it's just you, but there are others affected by your selfishness. The funny thing is that they don't seem to mind, and that's why you're so trapped. So I am genuinely happy seeing you trying. You have grown up, little rosebud. I'm proud of you."
It was a good thing everyone else had gone ahead. If they had seen the expression on my face when she said that, I'm not sure what they'll think. Emotions rolled around inside me. Frustration. Guilt. Confusion. Fear.
I fought to keep my composure, willing my face to reform into a mask of pleasant civility. "Thank you for your kind words, Madam Josefa."
*****
I was born as the youngest of four: my eldest brother Conrad, the twins Spencer and Martina, and then me. Our parents married young, because they married for love and Dad was convinced his future was Mom. Unfortunately, that future was cut short when Mom died.
We were at the beach, in one of the summer villas that Dad gave Mom as a wedding gift. It was just the two of us at that time, because the twins and Conrad were in school and Dad was going to pick them up so we could have a short vacation together.
Mom liked the sea. She grew up in the tropical beaches in Greater Asia and swimming was as natural as walking for her. She wanted me to learn and love it as well, so she was trying to teach me. Nothing should have gone wrong. The weather was perfect, the sea was calm, and the villa had its own barrier to keep the Anomalies out. There weren't many in the area, either, because we were in a designated Safe Zone.
At first I didn't think anything was wrong. I was sitting in the shallows, the waves tickling my toes as I played with the pretty rocks and seashells Mom found for me. Mom was standing a little further away, the water up to her waist and she was staring out into ocean. Then suddenly Mom screamed out.
"No! I won't let you have her!"
I looked up at her, and I got scared. Mom was furious and screaming, wading deeper into the sea. She was practically glowing as her rage and magic mixed together, as if she were going to wage war with the ocean itself.
"Stay away from my daughter! Get out of here! Get out!"
But there was no one there.
I began to cry. Mom was obviously scared and angry at something, but I didn't know what. I called out to her, but either she was ignoring me or she couldn't hear me. I remember running after her, but no matter how hard I tried, the water seemed to push me away.
The next thing I knew, I was in bed. The twins were sitting on either side of me, and Martina's eyes were red and blotchy and Spencer was sniffling.
When Dad and my siblings arrived at the villa, Mom was already gone. Of the ten people (five bodyguards, three maids, a chef, and a driver) who went with us, only two survived: me and the chef. According to the investigation, it was the work of a water naiad.
Water naiads belonged to the fairy race. Unlike humans and elves and dwarves, fairies were immortal creatures. Since they didn't have physical bodies, they couldn't die. Hence, they were considered 'immortal'.
According to experts, fairies had long existed on Earth, long before humans evolved enough to separate themselves from common animals, as evidenced by references in legends and lore. They were thought to be the incarnation of nature, and some were even worshipped as gods. People of old used to think of fairies as elf-like beings with wings, beautifull and enchanting creatures that would give you blessings if they like you, or curse you if they didn't.
Those people must be lunatics.
Fairies and natural disasters were very similar: they were unpredictable, beyond your control, and can cause severe damage to anything and everything in its way. They had no understanding of good and evil, they cannot be tamed, and had no regard for their surroundings. You can't talk to a typhoon and tell it to please, go somewhere else. You get the hell out of the way and wait for it to blow over.
According to the chef, there was a terrible commotion by the beach. One of the maids had said that the madam was losing her mind, and she was trying to drown herself. So they all rushed to the beach in alarm and found the madam shouting herself hoarse in the water, hurling spells at something they couldn't see. The guards were trying to get to Mom, but the water was moving oddly. One of the guards had already drowned when he tried to attack the water, an unseen force pulling him under. Then the water transformed into a gigantic hand and reached for me, sprawled on the beach, unconscious, and completely defenseless.
There was no one who could possibly reach me in time--except for the chef. He admitted that he didn't know what he was thinking at that time or how he hoped to protect me from the water. He just felt he needed to. So he just grabbed me and he lost consciousness himself immediately after.
For a long time, I didn't understand why that happened or what it meant. But it was quite obvious that the water naiad wanted me, and my mother and everyone else was just collateral damage.
Mom's death hit our Dad hard.
He was always the same cheerful, caring father in front of us. In fact, he showered us with so much love it was like he was trying to make up for the fact that Mom wasn't around anymore. But I knew. There was an empty space in his heart that had my mother's name on it.
Of course, nobody blamed me. It was a terrible incident, but it couldn't be helped. It wasn't my fault. The water naiad had taken a fancy to me, and mother was just trying to protect me, just as a mother should.
It was an accident. It was outside of human influence.
Wrong.
Jester swiped his hand to the left. The wall before him tore itself up and crumbled to dust before being sucked into a void known as Jorus, exposing the figures inside.Only two people remained standing. One was a familiar figure, tall and broad, with a white mask covering his face. The other was leaner, smaller than the masked man, with a handsome face and cold, dead eyes. This man held in his arms a woman with golden hair in a fancy red dress. The features of her beautiful face were obscured by the blood seeping from her head, and around her slender neck was a fiery tattoo, like a necklace of thorns painted on her skin.A curse mark, in its most potent form.Alisa. His Alisa.Everything in Jester fell still, and whatever rationality he had left was burned away by fear and fury.*****An explosion of black—an oppressive, all-consuming darkness surrounded them in the blink of an eye. This darkness was unnatural. It wasn’t a darkness born from a lack of light, rather, it felt to him li
Jester had several misgivings about attending the Finale as Alisa’s date. He had to dress fancy. He had to listen to a rabid crowd scream his name and fight the urge to run away. He had to let the paparazzi take pictures without breaking their limbs. He even had to stop scowling.But the Finale was important to Alisa. She had asked him to come, and he knew if he did, it would mean the world to her, so how could he refuse her?At first, it wasn’t so bad. The suit was surprisingly comfortable, and though it was fancier than what he was used to wearing (it had a cape, for crying out loud) at least it was in black and grey, and not—gods forbid—egg-yolk yellow or neon green (like what he saw some of the other guests were wearing). Their red-carpet entrance was also quickly over with, and like what Aisha had said, all that was left to endure was the small-talk.It only took a few minutes after Alisa left, though, for Jester to realize he could only bear with this situation in her presence.
TEN MINUTES BEFORE EVERYTHING WENT TO HELL, VIP SECTIONAn intense tremor shook the Stadium, accompanied by alarmed yelling and swearing and the sound of shattering glasses as surprised guests dropped to the floor or crawled under the tables. Before the shaking even stopped, an alarm ripped through the air. Colin felt a foreboding sense of deja vu when he recognized what it meant.CODE BLACK: ANOMALY BREACH DETECTEDLOCKDOWN PROTOCOL IN EFFECT. THIS EVENT IS HEREBY CANCELLED. ALL GUESTS AND RESIDENTS ARE ADVISED TO REMAIN WITHIN THE BORDER. PLEASE REMAIN CALM AND FOLLOW EVACUATION PROTOCOL.The last time M’lonia had a Breach was nearly fifty years ago. Not only were there fewer active Faults in Ellenis as a whole (when you compare it to Earth or Oren), but the Elven capital of M’lonia was literally in the middle of nowhere, and under miles of sand and bedrock to boot. Some studies have claimed that the possibility of a new Breach forming in an area without a history of a Fault decreas
I suddenly stopped feeling bad for my PA when I realized why she was so on edge.They were hiding things from me again. They knew—Bea, Dad, Jester, they all knew—how much I hated that.“Give me my earpiece,” I said to Freya, pointing at the tiny purse on the couch beside her.“You have to focus on the Finale.” Bea said, snatching it away before Freya could even reach for it. “Forget what I said about New York. Right now, focus on the show, and when everything’s done, you can go and cuddle up to Jester as much as you like and have that talk.”“And if I say, ‘No, I don’t want to go to New York?’”Bea wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Come on. Be reasonable. It’s just a health break…”I narrowed my eyes at her, focusing on Bea’s emotions.How suspicious. There was concern for my health, certainly. But strangely, Bea seems to be more focused on my safety rather than the possibility of me relapsing into anorexia. Then, there’s the thing about Sir Merrion following me around on the orders of the King
It was Jester who first stepped out of the car.Broad-shouldered, long and lean, he wore the dark grey suit Alisa had picked out for him, and it fit him like a dream. Unbeknownst to the stylists, the white shirt he was wearing underneath was actually his AG suit, which he had adjusted to copy its appearance. He told Alisa it just felt wrong for him to wear normal clothes when out in public, and convinced her to let him use the suit. Draped over his shoulders was the luxurious cape trimmed with black fur and embroidered in gold that Holly had waved under his nose, and in the flashing lights, the gold thread shimmered.From LeBlanc’s position on the balcony, and with the help of his favorite camera, he could see very clearly why Alisa Vega had fallen for the AG rookie. Had he been into men, LeBlanc himself would have fallen head-over-heels and off of a cliff for him. The build, the figure—there was no angle from which you could take a photograph that wouldn’t flatter him. And that face-
LeBlanc thought that West Park Stadium had never looked more like a treasure chest than it did tonight. It was bright, and shiny, and loud—and the people inside it were equally so.For most of the normal people in the three worlds, the Fashion Week Finale was a show you watch on your holo-screens. But now, LeBlanc was a part of it. He was there in the flesh.He had been fortunate enough to be invited to the Finale as a guest by his editor, and though he was not strictly required to work during the event, the photographer in him could not resist slinging his favorite camera over his shoulder. Fashion Week was like an all-you-can-eat buffet for him—there was no way he was passing up an opportunity to photograph the elite of the elite of the fashion world, in all their splendor. Of course, he would not be allowed to publicize any of his photographs unless he gains consent from his subjects. But he didn’t mind. He didn’t pursue photography for the money or the potential connections he cou