Page 91 of Curse in the Quarter
“What are you making?” Bastien asked, though something in his chest already understood.
“A life line.” Charlotte held up the finished braid, its silver threads now pulsing with soft light. “When death parts us—and it will, mon coeur, sooner than either of us wishes—this will help you find your way back to love.”
“Charlotte—”
“Promise me.” Her dark eyes blazed with fevered intensity. “Promise you'll choose love over safety, connection over peace, even when it costs everything. Especially then.”
He promised, sealing the vow with a kiss that tasted of jasmine and forever.
The memory faded, leaving Bastien alone with the ancient promises. Outside, New Orleans hummed withmorning life—coffee shops opening, tourists beginning their pilgrimages through the Quarter, ordinary people living ordinary lives unburdened by the weight of several lifetimes.
The summons arrived that evening as a whisper in his ear while he walked home through streets which had grown unnaturally quiet. Not words but musical notes that spelled out an address in harmonies only fae voices could achieve. The Beaumont mansion ruins, midnight sharp. Come alone.
Bastien arrived to find the skeletal ballroom transformed into something from a fever dream. Phantom chandeliers cast impossible light while ghostly couples waltzed to music that existed only in memory. At the center of this elegant illusion stood Maestro, his beauty untouched by time's passage, sharp features carved from moonlight and shadow.
“You received my message,” the fae lord said, his voice carrying perfect pitch that resonated in human bones. “I trust you understand our situation requires immediate attention.”
“Delphine's memories are surfacing faster, and the city is not . . . itself,” Bastien replied, maintaining careful distance. “Nothing I haven't handled before.” His attempt to appear calm as thin as the Veil was becoming.
“Ah, but this cycle differs from all others.” Maestro gestured gracefully, and the air between them shimmered with visions of past incarnations. “Observe the progression, cher ami. Charlotte took decades to fully awaken. Delia managed years. But our dear Delphine races toward complete awareness in mere weeks.”
The phantom images showed truth Bastien couldn't deny. Each incarnation had awakened faster than the last,accumulating power and memory with terrifying efficiency. This version of her soul was approaching dangerous levels of conscious awareness.
“When the full weight of all lifetimes crashes into mortal consciousness,” Maestro continued, dismissing the visions with elegant finality, “even the strongest souls fracture under pressure. I've witnessed it countless times—minds shattering like crystal, leaving nothing but hollow shells where vibrant spirits once flourished.”
From within his coat's impossible depths, Maestro produced an object that made reality recoil. A rune carved from shadowglass—that mineral found only in spaces between worlds—its surface etched with symbols that hurt to observe directly. The thing pulsed with cold light that cast shadows in directions that ignored geometry.
“A severing rune,” Bastien whispered, recognizing the artifact from ancient texts.
“Forged in Winter Court foundries and carved by artisans who sacrificed their names to create it. One touch to your soul-tether, and Delphine breaks free of the cycle forever.” Maestro's smile carried genuine compassion alongside predatory satisfaction. “No more deaths, no more rebirths, no more endless repetition of love and loss. She lives this lifetime as purely human—aging naturally, loving freely, finding peace in mortality's embrace.”
The shadowglass rune hummed with power that Bastien felt in his bones. It would work—could free Delphine from the supernatural forces that had defined her existence across centuries. She could have children, build her career, grow old surrounded by family who would carry her memory into the future.
“The cost?” he asked, though Maestro's expression already provided the answer.
“For her, nothing but blessed normalcy. For you . . .” The fae lord's voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried more clearly than a shout. “You experience the severance as a blade through your essence. One moment of exquisite agony that echoes for eternity. You'll know she exists somewhere in the world but you’ll never find her, never touch her, never love her again. The tether that has sustained you becomes a wound that never heals.”
Bastien stared at the shadowglass rune, its logic unfolding with crystalline clarity. Delphine would be free—truly free—to live without the weight of their shared history. No more dying in his arms. No more forgetting everything they meant to each other. No more supernatural forces dragging her away from simple human happiness.
“Why offer this?”
“Because the Veil grows dangerously thin, and her awakening threatens the balance we've maintained for millennia. This cycle represents something unprecedented—a mortal soul accumulating power that rivals beings born to magic itself.” Maestro moved closer, his presence making the air shimmer with otherworldly energy. “When she remembers everything, when she realizes the full scope of what's been done to her, her rage will tear holes in reality's fabric. The boundaries between worlds will collapse.”
The threat carried absolute truth's weight. Bastien had noticed reality bending around Delphine's unconscious magic, her latent abilities manifesting with strength that dwarfed previous incarnations. If that power turned destructive . . .
“I've observed what happens when mortals accumulate too much magical force too quickly,” Maestro pressed. “Their minds fracture under the pressure. Their souls burn out like candles in hurricanes. Is that truly the fate you'dchoose for your beloved? Watching her destroy herself while the world burns around her?”
The shadowglass rune pulsed again, its call promising peace through sacrifice. One moment of agony to save Delphine from an eternity of supernatural suffering. One act of love that would free her to live as she was meant to—human, mortal, beautifully ordinary.
“I won't use it,” Bastien said, but the words lacked conviction.
“Consider carefully,” Maestro replied, stepping back into shadow with fluid grace. “When her awakening reaches a crescendo and you see madness claim those beautiful eyes, you'll beg for this solution. But by then, the moment may have passed.”
He paused at the ballroom's edge, form already beginning to fade into darkness. “I leave this freely given, requiring no bargain or debt. Use it when the pain becomes unbearable, when love itself becomes cruelty.”
The fae lord vanished, leaving only the scent of winter roses and the weight of choice. Bastien stared at the shadowglass rune resting on broken marble, feeling its power whisper promises of salvation through separation.
He picked up the carved glass, its cold burning his palm with ice and fire combined. Surprisingly light for something carrying such finality. The rune slipped into his pocket as he walked home through empty streets, each step echoing with endings he prayed would never come.
