Page 66 of Stitches
“Shadow, though foreign, did chase and defend, and run the demon out to prove our chaos could end.”
Into the wood they went, with Ashmedai racing after the demon, accompanied now by a redheaded figure meant to be Braxton when his legs still worked, until the spread of darkness reached them. Braxton fell, and suddenly Ashmedai could go no farther, for a pulse of light indicated the barrier between him and where the demon had escaped.
“Lo, a wall was found to hold us here, but through this metamorphosis our story is clear.
Peace here, within, and for everlasting sin.”
Outward the illusion zoomed once more, showing the changed lands and populating person after person, all familiar, for Levi made one look like Daedlys, another Grillo, another Luccite, and so on, all staring in wonderment at how they had been changed.
“Diversity of people bless these lands, ruled ever-gently in the worthiest of hands.”
Then came Ashmedai from the wood, carrying Braxton, and the people swarmed him, falling to their knees.
“Lo, tonight we celebrate our king, for peace and prosperity that no one else could bring.
Peace here, within, and an end to every sin.”
The images burst into prismatic distortions, the illusion fading and falling, leaving only Klarent behind it all, who took another deep bow.
The applause was wilder than any Levi had been privy to today, but as Klarent motioned him forward to take a bow beside him, Levi did so with his eyes seeking only one spectator.
Ash—who stared forward at nothing, looking unmistakably sad.
Levi realized in an awful rush of hindsight how foolish he’d been to go along with this performance, for of course this was a story Ashmedai would never want to relive. Yet he was forced to remember everyFestival Day.
A pat on the back from Klarent made Levi startle, and he saw the same happen to Ashmedai as the citizens around the king crowded close to offer their praises. Ashmedai smiled in humble acknowledgment at all of them, but Levi knew it was a mask.
“Thank you, friend,” Klarent said. “You don’t know how much this meant to me.”
Levi did. He understood. To everyone other than Ashmedai—and Braxton, he supposed—the curse was a source of eventual joy and fortune. They still feared the demon, the barrier, and wanted those threats gone, but no one considered what they had become a curse. Not really. Not anymore.
They didn’t know how untrue that was for Ashmedai.
Klarent dragged Levi with him to descend the stage, a flurry of renewed pats on the back and accolades bombarding them as they made their way to Ashmedai’s side.
“That was wonderful, Klarent,” Ashmedai lied.
“The performance, I’ll admit, was more a labor of love than anything,” Klarent said, holding out the tome he had been saving, “but this book holds the true details, filled with the most accurate account to date. The poem merely kicks it off. For you, my king.”
With hands struggling not to shake, Ashmedai accepted the book. As he touched it, the Source Crystal on the front glowed its signature violet. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. And… congratulations, I hear.” He mustered a more believable smile.
“Ah!” Klarent looked aside with a wriggle of nearly every tendril on his person. “You heard. Thank you, Ash. Now, I must attend to the following performer.”
It seemed Grillo was next. Kenner must have been elsewhere, but Levi saw Yentriss in the crowd, clearly working to keep order, or at least a careful watch over the celebration, but upon seeing her husband takethe stage, she came forward like many other gawkers, unable to hide her surprise.
“An ode to my beautiful wife,” Grillo began.
Levi had been excited to hear the poem, but when he turned to Ashmedai, he found the king staring at the book with the same lost, melancholy expression.
“Ash?”
“Hm?” Ashmedai blinked away what were clearly tears.
“Shall we go for a walk?” Levi whispered, taking the book from him and linking their arms.
All Ashmedai answered with was a shaky nod.
Only the first few lilts of Grillo’s poem reached them as they headed away.
