The Partisan Chronicles [Dystopia | Supernatural | Mystery]

Everleigh

They fit me for a mask like his.

The eyes were dark but still I could see.

Their father was handsome but drunk. Their mother was skittish but kind.

Avis puppeteered the troupe with strings of light. She moved through every moment of the moment with a compliment and a carefree smile. She was pretty, and I stared at her spark because I knew: one day, her Anima would open wide and gobble it up.

Replace it with a fake, a fraud.

Endlessly spinning, and spinning—

"Can you dance?" Sebastian asked.

"Why."

"I thought we could perform a duet tonight. We'll have our best violinists accompany us for a song. You have a beautiful voice."

Sometimes I wished we could do it all over again.

Hours upon hours we practised.

In the streets at night.

In our home all day.

Endlessly spinning, and spinning—

"I can dance," I said.

"Can you now? Well, let's see how we pair."

He offered his hand.

Before Sebastian was my father, he was my friend.

I took his hand. I knew all his moves.

We paired perfectly, so.

The crowd adored us. They always did.

It was the dead of night, the show was closed, and I was surrounded by dozens of lights with legs and lanterns draped across whispering willows.

I sat alone on the northern stage, furthest away from the camp.

Even in that place, they needed sleep.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

And even in that place, I didn't.

A moment alone.

A moment to think about our predicament.

The uncertainty of it all.

A moment but not a moment too long;

His cane clicked against the cobbles.

"My dear," the other brother said. "May I sit?"

"I guess."

A sharp pain in his hip, a shooting pain in his leg.

I stared while he struggled,

While he suffered and didn't show it.

I played a scale only he could hear.

A burst of comfort.

The other brother smiled though he didn't understand why. "I have a request."

"Okay."

"Will you play the Flight of Fantasy for me?"

My Anima screamed. I raised its instrument to my chin and played.

The other brother was impressed.

And he was concerned.

"We've never played that song for the public. Who are you?"

"What do you mean."

"Your performance tonight with my brother was uncanny. It was as if—I've never seen anything like it. You've mastered an alarming number of our songs, including the unreleased furthermore, and now—?"

"I'm a visitor from the future," I said.

The other brother stared. He laughed. "And she's a comedian, too. Just be honest and we can sort this out politely. Admit you're obsessed with my brother and have been stalking us."

"Uh—"

"You had to have been at a great many of our shows, and yet we've never seen you before. And now, in practically no time, you've captured my brother's devotion. A connection like that simply isn't possible unless you've been watching him."

"Are you jealous."

"Jealous? No. My brother is a bleeding heart; impressionable and I'm concerned. What do you want? Money? Your own headline?"

"You should learn to relax." The other brother stared, and so did I. "I actually am from the future. I was eaten by ghosts."

"I understand now you're unwell, so let's not make this complicated. I'd like you to leave."

"But I like it here."

"Well, I don't trust you or your aversion to colour."

"Okay. You should let Sebastian do what makes him happy. You'll probably regret it later if you don't."

"And you think you know what makes my brother happy? It's only more proof you—"

"More proof I'm from the future."

"So, what happens to us then? In the future."

"You both die of old age."

"I see. How mundane."

"Exactly. If I were crazy, why would I say I'm from the future and then say something as boring as that."

The other brother stood.

He stared.

He leaned down and kissed my cheek.

Then the other with a whisper, "You truly are extraordinary, whoever you are."

A fate. A fact.

"And I will be watching you."

And I will be watching you.

One breath and he would be dead.

But he loved his brother the way I loved my father.

My uncle, Zacharias. Whether we liked it or not.