The guide Iris opened her eyes. Bright sunlight poured through her. She looked down at her translucent hands. Their dim radiance flickered, led by the calm breezes welcoming the new morning. She gasped and jumped back, but she failed to keep her balance.
She didn’t need to. Her body never landed on the ground; she floated with her feet rising in the air, her figure flowing with her instinct. A pair of invisible wings kept her afloat, yet she couldn’t find them on her back.
Only her client quietly watched her wondrous display. Alice too appeared adorned in a veil of azure light. Her long dress like feathery wings fluttered around her, moving cyclically with controlled grace.
An angel. Iris had to return to the ground, feeling sacrilegious staying above Alice. She surveyed the environment and recognised it.
“Have I become a ghost?”
“Do you want to?”
She was too nervous to answer; her mysterious client might really turn her into a ghost, even if it would be harmless.
Alice melted and reformed in front of her guide, who was too stunned to react. “You’re asleep, in my arms, laying on the same patch of grasses, under the same night sky.”
“Magic . . . sure is wonderful.”
“It doesn’t have to remain out of your grasp.”
“But I lack the resources and talent.”
“Both of which are not necessary, nor permanent.” Alice touched her guide’s face. “Sponsoring a mage is within my capability.”
“I’ve tried my luck once, but my innate talent is nonexistent, too poor to meaningfully progress.”
“There exist multiple methods to overcome that limitation.”
Iris carefully breathed in. She gathered her thoughts and shook her head. “I can’t accept that offer. It’s too much; I won’t ever be able to repay it.”
“Even if you don’t have to?” Alice traced her fingers down her guide’s cheek, grazing her neck. “You can repay me in other ways.”
Iris tensed up. She reluctantly retreated. “I’m afraid I still can’t accept that offer.”
If she gave herself more time, she might change her mind. But she feared such a future. She didn’t want to lose her path, didn’t want to leave this comfortable way of life. A world on the other side, even if by Alice’s side, wasn’t where she dared to be.
A series of footsteps disrupted the serenity. A lady guiding a group of women walked through this quiet path while showing her clients colourful flowers and traces of small animals frequenting the trail.
It was a puzzling feeling, seeing herself walking and talking to a familiar group of women. The event unfolded like a scripted play, designed to impress its one and only director.
“I have no idea memories can be so vivid,” Iris said.
“The art of dream divination is wonderful.”
After the past guide led her clients to a checkpoint, they separated. The group went on to stroll around the hill while Iris returned to the inn at the foot of the hill. She had a smile on her face when she touched her chest, feeling the dear necklace.
The spirit Iris carefully examined her past self. The way her attire moved with her slight gesture, the way her eyes fixated on the necklace, and the way her smile subconsciously blossomed gave her an indescribable feeling, like she were looking at her disobedient reflection.
A pair of hands caught her. She almost cried out but suppressed her sensitive voice. The corner of her eyes glimpsed at her angelic client, who gently drew her in, deeper, tenderer.
“Alice, what are you—” Iris turned to her client. Behind her, a crimson-winged creature hid between branches and leaves. It was a singular eye, the familiar eye crushed in the future passed.
It had always been here, waiting, watching, following her unsuspecting past, her unsuspecting self. Its diamond-shaped pupil glared incessantly at its target. Iris had an urge to yell at her other self, but she couldn’t change the past.
She looked at the only person who could see her.
Alice smiled. “Look at your past self, Dear.”
Iris paid more attention to the strolling guide. Waves of warmth and chill tickled her shoulders, where she could feel her Alice’s touch. She didn’t know what to do, but those worries disappeared when she noticed sparkles hovering between the trees and flowers, the earth and sky.
Like snows, they drifted up and down. Their ever-shifting colours painted the quietude with energetic, cold, contemplative, and gentle moods.
A flow of azure light, clearer than all else, coursed around her past self. The ordinary necklace now glowed like the full moon, radiating tides of elegant blueness that blinded all malicious intentions.
The wicked eye couldn’t get closer to its target. The soft glares melted its wings and bled its eye. Faint magic circles flashed all around its body, their ordered lines cracking, shattering.
Quietly the eyeball crumbled as ashes, scattered throughout the land unnoticed.
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The past Iris happily hummed a folk tune detailing a day in the life of a carefree wanderer, who admired wonders while searching for a place where she belonged, where her heart would guide her to love. Although no one was listening, its intended target still chuckled.
She sauntered down the hill and, as she reached the inn, looked behind her, at the forest from where she left. A bush rustled, accompanied by the faint music of the birds.
She giggled to herself and disappeared into the inn.
Alice tilted her head. She and her guide curiously stood at where the past Iris looked. Coincidences did not exist around her.
“Will they . . . send something else other than the eyeball?” Iris said. “Am I in danger?”
“Take my hand, and I’ll show you.”
A torrent of sparks overwhelmed Iris, and she found herself on an indoor balcony of an old, abandoned opera house. Dusty scarlet curtains cloaked the hall like bloodstains, leaving the clean stage the focus of this spider-infested theatre.
She glimpsed at Alice leaning on the balustrade, staring down at the main floor. A group of men and women in sophisticated attires, their faces hidden beneath masquerade masks, murmured to their companions while the characters on the stage enacted a series of misfortune befallen the main cast.
The protagonist was a young hardworking lady who, through coincidence, met and fell for a mysterious prince. Their brief meeting planted a seed in her heart, and she could no longer deny her feelings. She endured through hardship of status difference and naivety until she finally met him again.
Yet the prince could not remember her. He had already married a noble lady whom she could never compare.
The play ended with the heartbroken girl reaching out her hand at the sky, at the darkness beyond the moon, at the demoness who promised her a wish fulfilled.
The main actress took out a delicate silver knife and pointed its blade at her chest. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and plunged it inward. The trembling blade flicked, stabbing into her right eye.
Blood sprung out of her falling body. Her scream covered the theatre but failed to stir even a single gasp from the audience. Her convoluting body gradually lost its vitality. The knife slipped out of her face, and her wounded eye withered into a black husk.
The main spotlight faded as the curtains fell. The girl then rose to her feet, her fair skin squirming like a collection of tendrils awaking from slumber. Black illusory wings sprouted from her shadow, covering the stage with an oppressive air.
She received a voluminous applause, though she remained frowning throughout everything. Another girl carefully came on the stage and offered her a handkerchief. She received it, smiled at her enchanted slave, and wiped her face.
Her mutilated eye regained its clean appearance.
“What is she?” Iris said. “Her air lacks humanity, like a Demoness.”
“A Human-Demon hybrid,” Alice smirked. “A Greater Demon just to track your location, quite extravagant, isn’t it?”
Iris blinked. A Greater Demon had destroyed many towns and corrupted many heroes in fairytales, yet one such terrifying being was after her?
Still her client effortlessly repelled, even harmed that Greater Demon.
“How . . . have I never known this?” Iris said.
“Is that not what we’re trying to know?”
“Aren’t you the one protecting me?”
“My Artefact has been protecting you, Dear, but it wasn’t the only thing.”
Iris swallowed. She focused on the hybrid, who tossed away the handkerchief. Her shadow caught it with its myriad tendrils and devoured it. The stench of her blood filled the theatre, though no one minded this numbing metallic smell.
“An unfamiliar power crushed one of my eyes,” she said. “Find out who dared to meddle with our plan.”
Her servant lowered her head and left the stage. A few shadowy figures moved about in the backstage, exiting the opera theatre. The hybrid lady then turned to her audience, who kept quiet so as not to disturb her mood.
“How are our agents in the royal faction?” She looked at a distinguished gentleman who tensed up upon bearing her attention.
“Everything is proceeding as planned, My Lady.” He tilted his hat, hiding her nervous eyes. “There is news you might be interested in: the Crown Prince’s representative will be visiting the Church of Knowledge in a week’s time.”
“What about His Highness himself?”
“None . . . none of our agents have had any information about his whereabouts ever since the Holy Resurgence Ceremony.”
The hybrid lady smiled. She licked her lips as her heart excitedly pounded. “If our plan succeeds, I might get to see him up close. Such a handsome man, so worthy of my affection.”
The gentleman did not comment on her words. He kept still while watching the hybrid lady swaying with her fantasy. Everyone else too preserved this soundless moment, giving all attention to the stage.
Only Iris recoiled away from the balustrade. Her hair stood up. Her chest felt suffocated. The oozing creepiness almost pushed her away, but Alice by her side shielded her from the rest of the world. This safe balcony would never crumble, not when supported by her guardian angel.
After her loud mumbling, the hybrid lady pointed at another one of her audiences. She questioned the progress of their missions, listened to their interesting reports, and stared at those who failed her expectations. Her reaction now became mild, nothing able to catch her interest like the Crown Prince.
“The operation . . . failed, My Lady. The Church of Knowledge’s Holy Knights were stronger than anticipated.” A young man shivered.
“You . . . failed to bring back the scroll?”
“Please give me a second chance!” The man stood up. “Although we couldn’t get the scroll, we still managed to kill our target.”
“Enough. The opportunity has passed.” The hybrid lady hmphed. “Withdraw your force. You’ll be assisting in the investigation of who messed with my eye.”
“But My Lady, there is still a chance that your plan will be compromised. We shouldn’t waste our resources on a mere—”
The half-demoness raised her hand and clenched her fist. A demonic hand formed from darkness clutched the young man’s neck, dragging him up from his feet. His face whitened, his mouth gasping for breaths, and his legs flailing feebly, desperately. He squeezed out unintelligible pleads, terror filling his eyes.
The world grew cold until the lady opened her fist. The demonic hand dissipated, and the young man fell on his chair, coughing, gagging, but never puking. He covered his mouth and swallowed whatever tried to come up from his throat.
“I shan’t tolerate any disobedience. Mother’s plan is comprehensive; you only need to put your faith in her foresight.”
The young man nodded.
“And . . . she is more important than you realized,” the lady said. “There are very few treasures comparable to . . . her uniqueness.”
Now that the show had come to an end, the audience swiftly left the theatre to their designated locations. They returned to their usual identities, working for the grand design of their lady, aiming for a goal too massive for a single Secret Organisation or a single Evil Cult could accomplish.
The lady herself stayed on the stage and contemplated upon some elusive matters. Her shadow flickered in accordance with the light sources decorating this crimson hall. Nothing but her wicked appearance tainted the atmosphere so thoroughly.
She should’ve gone to bring back her target long ago, yet circumstances had times and again hindered her. Minor operations all around her partially succeeded, giving her results but also stopping her from expanding her influence.
And her enemies kept tailing her, striking at the most fortunate time, just enough to keep her busy, just enough to keep her hands full. The Orthodoxy, the Secret Organisations, the Vagrant Supernatural Beings, they moved in and out of the board like a coordinated dance—but she couldn’t see the directive hand.
Futilely she looked up. There was an invisible lantern looming above her. Its unseen shadow enveloped her existence, casting a deep, unreachable abyss that trapped her steadily, subtly.
The otherworldly lantern, glimpsed briefly by Alice, wavered.