Page 68 of A Taste of Silver
The memory-projections swirled faster now, responding to the intensity of emotion in the space. They showed not just Seraphina but dozens of others, Mirror Princes who'd tried to claim their Walkers, Walkers who'd tried to possess their Princes, all of them failing because they'd approached unity as conquest rather than consensus. A parade of broken bonds and shattered love, each one adding another voice to the chorus of the consumed.
"That's the real curse, isn't it?" Understanding flooded through me like silver fire, bright and burning and absolutely certain. "Not that you killed her, but that you can't forget you did. Every reflection shows you the moment you chose possession over love, and you've been trying to justify it ever since."
The truth hit him like an icicle striking a stone. The Crimson One's scream shattered three memory-projections simultaneously, their light fracturing into fragments that cut through the air like falling stars. The sound contained centuries of pain, of guilt transformed into hunger, of love perverted into need.
"You know nothing of what we suffered!" The words tore from his throat like claws. "The distance, the longing, the knowledge that we could never truly touch without destroying each other?—"
"We know exactly." Silvyr's hand tightened in mine, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling around us. "But we chose differently."
"You haven't chosen yet." The Crimson One's form solidified into something between threat and promise, beautiful and terrible and utterly alien. "Wait until the hunger grows. Wait until every moment apart feels like death. Wait until you realize that unity means one of you ceases to exist as you are."
The words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. I could feel the truth in them, the weight of the choice that lay ahead. Every time Silvyr and I joined our magic, every time our bond deepened, I felt a little more of myself dissolving into us. It was terrifying and wonderful and completely irreversible.
"Then we'll become something new." The words emerged without thought, but I knew them for truth the moment they left my lips. "Not you consuming me or me consuming you, but us becoming we while still remaining ourselves."
"Impossible." But there was doubt in his voice now, a crack in his certainty that let light seep through.
"Everything's impossible until someone does it." I quoted my six-year-old self, the child who'd promised to free a serpent prince from his curse without understanding what that promise would cost. "You failed because you tried to take without giving. We'll succeed because?—"
Movement above us cut off my words. Through the theatre's impossible ceiling, which was glass or crystal or something that existed only in dreams, I glimpsed the gleam of armor and the sharp edges of swords. Reality was reasserting itself in the form of palace guards who'd somehow tracked us even here, into this space between spaces where memory and magic held court.
"Because you'll die before you get the chance." The Crimson One smiled, and it was the most human expression I'd seen from him. Sad and vindictive and desperately lonely, like a child who'd broken his favorite toy and now wanted to break everyone else's. "They're coming for you, little Queen. Your court has decided you're too dangerous to live."
Above us, I could hear shouts, the clash of metal on stone, the sharp commands of soldiers organizing for battle. They'd found us, somehow traced our magic through the labyrinth of mirrors and memory to this impossible place. And they were coming with swords drawn and orders to kill.
Silvyr pulled me closer, his form solidifying as our proximity strengthened our bond. I felt his power flowing into me, felt our connection deepen despite the danger, or perhaps because of it. Around us, the memory-projections began to fade, their gentle light replaced by the harsh reality of our situation. Trapped between realms with the Crimson One before us and guards above, our half-written song the only weapon against forces that wanted us bound, broken, or dead.
"Then we'd better finish writing it." I met the Crimson One's hollow gaze, seeing myself reflected there in fragments, Mirror Queen, serpent's love, weapon, victim, hope. "All three verses. Past, present, and future."
"You think you can rewrite reality itself?" His laugh held the echo of broken glass and shattered dreams.
"No." I pulled the ghost-melody around us like armor, feeling Silvyr's harmony join mine in perfect counterpoint. The song rose between us, silver and strong and absolutely true. "We're going to remember it correctly. Starting with the truth about Seraphina."
The Crimson One recoiled as if struck, his carefully maintained form wavering like heat mirage. "You dare?—"
"She loved you." The words landed like blows, each one striking at the heart of his carefully constructed justifications. "Even as you killed her, she loved you. That's why you can't let go, not because you preserved her, but because she forgave you, and you've never forgiven yourself."
The stage cracked beneath our feet, reality fracturing along the fault lines of old pain. Through the breaks, I glimpsedsomething unexpected, not void or hunger, but grief so profound it had transformed into consumption. The Crimson One wasn't just a monster who devoured love; he was love itself, poisoned by guilt and twisted into something unrecognizable.
The memory-projections swirled one final time, showing us the truth he'd hidden even from himself. Seraphina's last words, spoken with her dying breath: "I forgive you. I love you. Please, find another way."
The Crimson One wasn't just our enemy. He was our warning, our potential future, our cautionary tale.
And possibly, impossibly, he might also be our key to writing an ending that didn't end in consumption or death, but in something entirely new.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Chapter 25
Aurea
The stage trembled beneath our feet as Prince Aldric strode through the shattered remnants of the theatre doors, his royal guard flanking him in perfect formation. Their armor gleamed with unnatural brightness, polished to mirror-sheen, I realized with a sick lurch that sent ice racing through my veins. The silver tracery along my arms flared in recognition of the power radiating from those walking reflections. He'd turned his own soldiers into anchors, their very beings transformed into conduits for whatever grand design he'd orchestrated.
Each step Aldric took sent ripples through the air itself, distorting reality like heat waves rising from summer stone. Around us, the mirror fragments embedded in the walls began to hum in harmony, responding to the convergence of so much concentrated power.
"Your performance has been... illuminating," Aldric said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority despite the chaos swirling around us. The words seemed to echo from multiple directions at once, as if the mirrors themselves were repeatingthem. The binding circle from the ballroom still clung to him like a second skin, invisible threads of power that made the air around him shimmer with otherworldly energy. "But I'm afraid the finale requires a different cast entirely."
The temperature in the theatre dropped perceptibly as he spoke, our breath beginning to mist in the frigid air. Silvyr tensed beside me, his form flickering between dimensions as he prepared for whatever was coming. The constellation patterns in his eyes blazed brighter, casting silver light that danced across the fractured stage.
