In the dimmed atrium, Pan stood between Sotir and Aria. A crowd of arcanes, young and old, surrounded them. Everyone in attendance wore somber expressions and clothes of grey.

At the back of the room, candles flickered on a makeshift altar, and photographs of deceased arcanes looked dull between the fire. Their faces of grey smiled, unaware that they would all be murdered and reaped sometime after their final photos. Pan had to admit – that was a lot of lost lives.

Pan was glad there had been only two, not counting her of course, but she wasn’t like them.

Pan leaned into Sotir’s space. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” She paused.

He didn’t answer. He stared straight ahead and listened to an elder arcane read the names of the lost arcanes.

Pan continued, “I didn’t get you a present.”

Sotir’s eyes flicked in her direction, but he didn’t turn. “That’s alright. I didn’t tell you about my birthday because I didn’t want you to get me anything. I thought you might give it to me in the middle of the memorial.”

Pan leaned closer. “I would have.”

“I know.” Sotir smiled. Finally, he leaned closer and whispered, “By the way, how did you know it was my birthday?”

Pan started to sweat. She tried very hard not to look in the direction of the cake. She stared straight ahead and tried to listen.

Sotir straightened. He still smiled.

“Aria told me,” Pan said.

On Pan’s other side, Aria blew out a breath. “Now, you’ve done it,” she whispered. “Be quiet.”

Pan agreed. She should keep her mouth shut. Likely, she’d just ruined Sotir’s surprise. He probably worked his power even then, trying to figure out exactly how Pan knew. He’d see the cake. He’d see the conversation. He’d see it all.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said quietly in her ear.

Slowly, Pan smiled.

The elder arcane cleared his throat. He flipped the page, and Pan thought he might be ready to conclude the ceremony. She tensed and stretched to her full height. The elder arcane began another list of names. Pan slumped.

Amazing that any of us are here really. Those must be the names of an entire generation.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

The elder arcane put down his paper. “We’re here to honor all of the people that lost their lives to Cesarina and Merig – the first and last of the reapers. May we never see their like again.” He bowed his head.

Pan did the same. She was familiar with memorial services and the gesture was a reflex.

Someone blew out the candles, and the lights came on. Slowly, conversations started and an exodus to the food table began.

Pan snagged Sotir’s sleeve between her fingers and held him back. He had to save room for cake. He didn’t move, merely leaned on his staff and waited for others to filter around him.

“We should wait,” Pan said.

“Oh?”

“So, there’s nothing left for us to eat but the castoffs.” Pan delivered the line with a straight face. Then, with a smile, she added, “It’s a brilliant plan. I’ve always wanted to dine like a rodent.”

Aria hung back too, and as more people moved towards the food, Pan could see the birthday attendees, standing like rocks against a stream.

Sotir’s old mentors and Pan’s began to cluster together. Sotir’s friends moved against the crowd towards the cluster of mentors. A couple headed for Sotir: Hagen and Pollon. Pan expected the dream invader and healer. She didn’t expect Uda, the fire starter. She didn’t even know that Uda was a friend of Sotir’s. By all rights, Uda shouldn’t have any friends. She had been Aria’s bully at the beginning of their arcane journeys, yet Uda had plenty of companionship. Pan and Aria had each other and little else.

“I heard about that future colony job.” Hagen stuffed his hands into pockets and stopped before Sotir. He narrowed his eyes at Pan’s hand on Sotir’s sleeve, so she let go. “That’s going to be a tough one.”

“Probably tiring,” Sotir agreed. He stole a glance at Pan and let his friends carry him away in conversation.

Pan and Aria stood in momentary silence. A few tears fell from Aria’s watery eyes, and she blinked fast. Pan grabbed Aria’s shoulder and turned her away from the auras of the other arcanes.

“So, what did you think of the memorial?” Aria asked.

Pan froze. She hoped that yellow didn’t course through her aura, like it always did when Aria mentioned reapers. “It was alright. What did you think?”

“Sad,” Aria said.

“It’s meant to be.”

Sotir was not surprised. He made no effort to pretend the ruse had worked – no wide eyes, no startles. He just smiled, content and a bit embarrassed, probably on their behalf.

A group of nearly thirty arcanes waited for the atrium to empty. They moved towards the small table of tucked away birthday food, and the cake started its rounds.

She leaned close to Sotir, amid the confusion of cake-filled plates. “I’m sorry I spoiled the surprise. I might just live with you to make up for it.”

Sotir’s eyes snapped to hers. “Make a promise of it, and I’ll hold you to it.”

Pan felt her innards do a flip. She held Sotir’s gaze, until a plate of cake hovered near. The dessert caught her eyes. Pan reached for it, but Sotir snatched the plate out of her hands.

The lights went out. A long moment of darkness followed as Pan’s eyes adjusted to the light of a hastily relit candle. Only then did the cake find its way to her hands.

“I didn’t want you to drop…something else,” Sotir said. “Power’s out.”

“I can see that.” Pan picked up her fork. She didn’t need light to eat cake. “Why is the power out?”

Sotir gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t really care to look.”

“Let’s all finish our dessert so we can head to the lounge,” a mentor called over the flurry of annoyed and frightened voices.

“And tell ghost stories!” Someone shouted.

Pan felt the first bite of her cake had been ruined. Someone just had to suggest ghost stories.

“Sorry, Pan,” Aria whispered.

Pan grunted her muffled agreement.