That evening was an unpleasantly warm one.
After the rain had washed off all the dust during the previous night and presented pleasant, chilly air to the participants of the sudden little ball, the sun that dried the puddles during the day only made it sultry. It was time for the grand finale, the first real challenge in Thomas's life. And after it is all over and the curtains have been closed, he, left in the dark to stare at their backs, would go back to smokes of white dust and sweat. It only took the boy from Lewtown a few minutes to be completely mesmerized by the starch atmosphere of gold and trickery that was laid out before him that evening. He had never, in his life, been able to imagine such graceful and elegant movement of fingers, such melody of whisper or curiosity in disingenuous eyes. He scanned the floor covered in silk and laughed every time someone stepped on a lady's dress. To him, the ball was a battle of senses.
Diane mercilessly swayed her fan, trying not to faint. “It is a bit hot, don’t you think?”
That they were seated next to her parents didn’t help the least. With every blink, Diane felt more alone. Actions are tricky; silence the only true sin. After a night spent in horror, she wondered if she was she ready to disobey once more and tell the poor little Flamer to run while his head was still on his shoulders. She didn’t want him to end up like her and Isaac, aimlessly wandering around the territory they might never get the chance to ruIn.
But Isaac has found his purpose. So, that only leaves me.
Thomas smiled innocently. “No, not really. I don’t ever get hot. Rarely cold,” he interrupted her thoughts.
“Lucky you.”
Diane watched her mother point towards the ceiling no one was paying attention to, and her father groan and take a sip of his drink.
“You've been awfully quiet today. Did something happen?” Thomas asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Diane put her fan on the table. “It is nothing for you to worry about. Now smile; people are watching,” she reminded the both of them.
And they truly were watching him; with disgust, mockery, and mistrust. Who was he to sit next to the king? And the queen, of course. The princess was there as well, but he couldn’t have been more savage than her. Scanning his surroundings, Thomas felt like a zoo animal. He heard more and more whispers, none of them pleasant, as the ballroom filled with more and more people. They talked about his upbringing, his job, her dress, and the people she had supposedly slaugheterd. Diane didn’t seem to notice any of the eyes that were glued to her; her head was too high up not to step on the ants. She knew they were suffocating under the pressure of her feet as they glared at her diamonds; hers were real, only slightly stained.
“Don’t you find them funny?” she remarked, suddenly light years away. She blended perfectly with the background, especially the diamond chandelier.
“Whom?” Thomas asked.
“The guests,” Diane said mockingly. “They really are staring! They ran like little mice all around town to prepare for the sudden ball and look at them now!” She leaned towards Thomas. “They are terrified of us, you know. They make up stories to tell to people to justify their weaknesses.” She covered her face with her fan as she laughed. Then she waved at someone and gripped Thomas's arm again. She looked into his eyes, calm and proud. “Have you memorized the names I gave you?”
Thomas's eyes escaped the princess's. “More or less.”
Diane let out a long, tired breath. “Never mind. Stay as silent as possible and we might survive this night. Now, get up.”
Thomas looked around with panic in his eyes. “Where are we going?”
“To let people greet us.”
Diane led him towards the center of the room where people were supposed to be dancing. One by one they bowed, said something nice to their princess and smiled at Thomas. When asked about his life prior to his “elevation”, he only blushed.
“Charming,” Diane said and dismissed the people with a delicate movement of her hand when she began to find them noisy. But her vanity was only for show; there were people whose hearts she could not touch with that perfect hand of hers.
“Diana! How lovely to see you!”
“I wish I could say the same,” Diane replied.
Sofia White, the only daughter of the Duchess of Iceleus and the fifth of the duke, dramatically put her pale hand to her heart when she bowed. Her white eyes watered, and she smiled mockingly, slowly pushing strands of her white hair behind her ears. “Oh, my, I didn't realize I was so unwelcome!” She then turned to Thomas and scanned him from top to bottom. “I see you've brought a swineherd.”
Diane was distracted by that crack in the ceiling.
“Watch your tongue,” the princess told the lady with a smile.
“Or what?” Sofia replied, equally gleeful that she got to meet Diane as the latter was to put her fingers around the duchess’s throat.
“Or I will end you.”
“Charming.”
The princess might have gone for the kill, had a tall young man not appeared out of nowhere just in time to pull her away from the confident lady she was now too close to. The murderous look in the princess's eyes was enough to shorten one's lifespan.
“That is enough for tonight,” Isaac said, still holding Diane's shoulder. He lowered his head as he talked to prevent people from catching his words. “If you still feel eager to rip each other's throats tomorrow, I will be more than happy to watch.”
As he fixed his posture again, a big, clear smile spread across his face. Unlike Thomas, whose heart was beating abnormally fast due to the terror he felt when Diane broke free of his grip, the prince was having the time of his life. Or so it seemed. But people noticed nothing. Diane pulled one of those charming smiles out of her pocket and her and Sofia laughed it off together, so happy to be in each other’s presence again. Prince Isaac Leahy was, as always, accompanied by a beautiful lady. She bowed slightly and held out her gentle hand for Thomas to kiss.
“Are you too busy ruining yet another party to introduce us to your infamous escort, Miss Hunster?” she asked.
“I have a feeling that won't be necessary, Naisa,” Diane answered, still slightly glaring at Sofia.
Thomas looked at the girl. Truth be told, she was more like a doll than a living person. Her face was so perfectly shaped it looked intimidating and unnatural. She might've been prettier, but her touch wasn't nearly as warm as Diane's. Her voice wasn't as pleasant, and her eyes weren't as honest. Princess Naisa of Aquarius was something you look at when you pass by the display window but never get the chance to touch or own.
But she was captivated by him. “Elaine, don't you think he has the most beautiful eyes?”
Until that very moment, Thomas hadn't noticed the girl standing next to Naisa. Her face was round, with gentle blue eyes and sweet lips, yet her head was constantly bowed, as if she was trying to disappear.
“I am very sorry, she is a bit shy. Her name is Elaine, and she is my maid,” Naisa introduced her.
The girl bowed slowly, again without saying a word. She was strange, but not hostile.
“It is nice to see you again, Elaine,” Diane commented, trying to calm herself down. “Is there anything interesting you've been up to lately?”
“Not particularly, Your Highness.” Elaine's voice, just like her whole appearance, was somehow angelic. Her long, gray hair covered most of her small back, and her blue eyes uncomfortably looked around, making her look fragile.
Unlike his expectations, Thomas found the company of the royals quite enjoyable, after he was able to free his soul of the terror. He and Isaac found similarities in opinion and for hours discussed some of them. The girls were tense, mainly due to Diane's sudden silence. Time was something they didn’t have, though it was steadily passing. But it was all too perfect to last: the smiles, the gowns, the jewels, all begged for calamity to rip up their hazardous intentions.
And they did.
At some point, Thomas felt a strange sensation. Like an arrow, it flew through his body. He was terrified by the sudden breeze that somehow squeezed his muscles and scratched his bones until they creaked. He wanted to scream as the pain squished his lungs until he was unable to draw a breath, but he was unable to move. There was squeaking in his ears, and he could only partially see the confusion on Diane’s face because his eyes watered.
“What in the world is this?” Sofia asked. Her whole body, on the other hand, was shaking so violently she immediately dropped the glass she was holding a moment ago.
Nervous voices filled the room. They could all feel a strange presence coming from the air around them; and it wasn’t the dead Hunsters.
Elaine looked at the ceiling. “They're here.”
The middle part of the ceiling collapsed, spilling unidentified black liquid from the roof. Bits of the broken chandelier scattered around the room, cutting people's flesh, breaking their bones, and stopping their breathing. Those who were lucky, managed to get minor cuts, while some ended up with diamonds in their eyes and mouth. Blood started mixing with the liquid that covered the entire room in a matter of seconds, leaving the survivors glued to the floor. Except Thomas Hammer. Just before hell broke loose, Diane had pulled Thomas's hand as she stormed past him and towards the balcony; he would have tripped over his new shoes had she not been so quick and strong. Her strides were long and so forceful they left holes in the floor. Thomas flew towards the balcony as the black flood swallowed the ballroom. Diane pressed her back against the wall next to the open balcony door and put her hand on Thomas’s chest to stop him from leaning over her and towards the room any more. Thomas didn't miss the strange glow of the lower parts of her legs, assuming they were the ones that gave her the incredible speed. He poked them shyly and felt his finger burn.
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“What about the others?! They are still inside…”
“I know, I'm not stupid!” Diane carefully moved her head to her left, trying to observe the situation.
They were everywhere, their red eyes searching for their prey. The smell of rotten flesh they spread around filled the air they breathed. Their weapons cut off heads and limbs, intensifying the cries that filled the walls with terror. The soldiers who flooded the room were either dead or dying. It was like Diane’s worst nightmare, except the colors were too vivid to disregard. Thomas felt lightheaded. It was his first time seeing so much blood and he didn't know if it was his last; the red river from the center of the living room reached the balcony and ended right next to Diane’s knees.
Seeing her steady eyes and collected mind, Thomas calmed down enough to ask: “Demons?”
“Yes.”
“They look like us.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have your sword?”
“No.”
He just nodded. “We are going to die, aren't we?”
“Shut up!” she hissed.
He could see her shiver from the corner of his eye. “What do we do?” he asked once she carefully rose to her feet.
“You? Nothing. And I mean it.”
She stripped down until she was wearing only her petticoat. There was a small crystal knife, molded specifically for cutting up Demon flesh, safely tied around her upper leg. She ripped her lower hem and tied her hair with it.
“You said you didn't have a sword,” Thomas said over the screams in the ballroom.
“That's because I don't,” she smiled weakly. “Stay here. Please.”
Thomas felt uneasy yet nodded. She looked at him briefly before disappearing. He quickly moved over to where the princess stood, watching her in awe. The only sign of her movement was the falling Demons, their blood mixing with the black liquid. They hopelessly turned around in circles, but none of them were able to catch her. Then he saw Isaac fall on his knees and forcefully slap his hands against the dirty floor. Roots appeared everywhere, breaking the already hardened glue, and temporarily imprisoning the enemy. Most of the guests fled; Thomas could hear them in the garden looking for horses.
Isaac smudged some of the liquid between his fingers. “Magma? Could it be?” he whispered.
“What are you doing?” someone yelled next to him. Sofia and Isaac collided as he stood up. She was too blinded by the colors to discern friend and foe. “Watch it!” she yelled, as her ice flew past Naisa's head. The princess, together with her maid, was surrounded by people who made up a human shield as she ran towards the entrance.
“Careful who you kill,” Isaac warned as Sofia’s ice started flying all around the room in undefined patterns.
“Better watch yourself, Your Majesty,” she replied, still pressing her back onto his. Then an icicle grew out of her nail and flew into a Demon’s throat. “I know what I’m doing.”
The royals were outnumbered and with each passing second getting more and more tired. The floor was now more red than black; royal mixed with demonic, so alike you couldn't tell them apart. It scared Isaac more than anything. The Demons were vicious and incredibly skillful. It was clear to him they were counting seconds.
“Diane!” Isaac yelled as the princess's figure flashed before him.
She slowed down, pulling her knife out of a Demon's head.
“It's no use!” she yelled from a few meters to his right. “There are too many of them! And they’re healing too quickly! Where is my father?”
Isaac's legs were numb, and he couldn't move around anymore. He was exhausted, waiting for someone to come and slice his throat.
“By the entrance!” he yelled back.
An icy mountain grew between the two friends, with icicles so sharp they cut Diane's cheek. About a dozen Demons hanged from the mountain's edges. The ice melted quickly, its creator too tired to maintain it. Diane looked at Sofia, whose white dress was soaked in Demon blood.
“Diane!” Isaac called out a bit louder, now wet from all the water. “It’s now or never!”
He could see desperation in Diane’s eyes. She could have as well been crying. “Never.”
The room was completely destroyed, limiting their movements. The only person who benefited from it was Diane's father, whose power to manipulate stone was probably what was keeping them all alive. But he was old. His minutes were very much numbered. Diane quickly wiped the blood off her cheek and rushed towards her father, her inhumanly strong arms smashing together the heads of two Demons who dared stand in her way. She also was running out of breath. Energy manipulation of such a level required strength she didn't have.
“How does it look?” she asked, now sheltered by a wall her father created. She leaned against one of his walls to rest for a moment.
“Not promising.” Brandon was shaking so much Diane crouched, ready to catch him should he start to fall.
“Mother?”
“Safe.”
“Crystal swords? The cuts we make with regular ones heal too quickly.”
“None,” he replied. “Wings?”
“None,” she replied pleadingly. “Can’t you get more swords?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that, Raven? Demons are within your jurisdiction.”
Diane took a deep breath and walked out of her shelter. Around her formed a storm of golden dust that blocked every single arrow aimed at her. But she couldn’t release it onto the enemy without hurting her allies in the process. What was left of them, of course. Too amazed by his friend's glory, Isaac spaced out for a moment. Once he regained his senses, he got slammed by a mace in a Demon's hand. He flew backward, his head hitting the floor hard. Just before his life ended, someone jumped in front of him and pushed the enemy to the side.
“Thomas,” Isaac whispered.
The Flamer flew backwards as well, making a big hole in the wall as he collided with it. The sound of the Flamer's bones breaking was the last sound Isaac heard before the Demons retreated to the back of the room and the royals fell under the sudden surge of gravity. Strands of unnaturally red hair accompanied loud, intimidating steps. A black cape wiped off the mixed liquids as she approached her army. She had a mask on, one that allowed only for her red eyes to shine with confidence and mockery. There was not a sound in the room, only the shortness of breath.
“Well done, everyone,” the girl said, fake amusement filling her raspy voice.
The aristocrats didn't know what to do. All eyes shifted to Brandon who was kneeling in front of a graveyard.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Diane Hunster as she proudly rose to her feet. She was close to a corpse herself, with her cut flesh and stained petticoat. Still, she was the only one able to somewhat fight what got her guests praying.
“What does it look like to you, Diane Hunster?” the girl replied, looking around. “It seems like defeat to me.”
“What do you want?”
“From you, nothing.” The girl was now looking around the room, searching for someone that, evidently, wasn’t there. Then she narrowed her eyebrows and mumbled, "Well, either way, we have what we came for. Might as well have some fun while we’re at it.”
“Who is it you are looking for?” Diane insisted, hoping to buy some time for Ravens to arrive. But it seemed like saving a room full of kings wasn’t their top priority.
“It's not like you'll remember it even if I told you,” the girl replied, strange bitterness burning her tongue.
“Because I am inconsiderate?” the princess bit back.
“Because you're dead.”
Diane fell back to her knees, now too weak to fight the strength of the gravitation that the girl manipulated. She closed her eyes as the mysterious girl approached her. She snatched Diane's crystal knife out of the princess’s hand and slowly removed the blood from it. As she pulled the princess by the hair, she placed the blade under her neck. Brandon tried to jump up and save his daughter, but the pull of gravitation that the mysterious Demon controlled was different from the others'; it was stronger and more determined to destroy any trace of the aristocrats that once sipped on each other's misfortune. Isaac, who was far enough from the main attraction not to be noticed, hesitated for a moment. He knew that the only person able to save Diane might be the peasant with an extant spark in his eye, but he also knew saving Thomas now would mean risking his, and Diane’s, secret coming out in the open. It was not an easy decision; Isaac had spent his entire life hiding from the likes of the people in that room, yet he felt, in the surge of pain that pressed his heart, that none of it was as important as the girl who once opened his eyes. So, he crawled towards the fallen Flamer as quickly as he could, despite his blurred vision. Thomas was lying on the marble floor, unconscious. Isaac decided to ignore the blood on the white wall and put his hand on Thomas’s chest.
“Sorry,” the prince whispered, and checked if he was still as important as the scattered chandelier. His veins glowed as the organs in Thomas’s body found their rightful places again, and the lost blood was replaced by a miricle. Thomas's eyes slowly opened, but his consciousness wasn’t the only thing that returned. Thomas felt nervous. So nervous his stomach swirled, and he felt the need to vomit his guts. There was something chained inside of him that desperately wanted to be free. It begged so intensely he wanted to dig his own eyes out.
“Let it out,” Isaac hissed, bewilderingly turning around. But they were all too amused by the sudden appearance of the red-haired girl, who was now slowly cutting Diane's flesh to notice an anomaly such as a Florian who could heal. “You are all we have left.”
Thomas knew it the moment he heard the cries of the princess sitting on her knees: there was nothing left for him to fear, for death was certain. So, he did what his heart begged him to. A sudden swirl of heat forced Isaac's eyes shut and pushed him back to where he used to be. He felt his flesh burning and he lost the ability to breathe. He tried to make a shield, but his wood disappeared the second he created it. He was trapped.
“Thomas,” he yelled, “what is happening?!”
He heard footsteps getting farther away. With each echo, it was easier to breathe. He was drowning until he was finally able to open his eyes. What he saw before him was the truth. It was hard for Isaac to explain, for it looked nothing like anything he had ever seen: a human torch, burning like in the middle of a dungeon. Flames so perfectly shaped and as intensely red as the floor beneath him swallowed Thomas’s body so no flesh could be seen. He was walking aimlessly, burning everything in sight. The only thing standing out from the burning disaster was his ever glowing, charming gray eyes. People screamed. The fear of different races blended into perfect harmony that would be remembered by the castle walls for millennia to come. They were all, after all, only pawns in Her game. Diane was dizzy. Through her half-shut eyes, she could see the Demon girl turn around and, confused, tell her soldiers to stop him. Who ‘he’ was, Diane was not sure. There was nothing but tranquility in her mind and heart. And a wish. A wish to survive and see Him again. To humiliate Him the way He humiliated her. To tell her mother she loved taking small walks. To tell Thomas to run, like she should have. With a corner of her eye, she could swear she saw a feather. Maybe it flew into her hand, maybe it was a dream. Maybe she was her old self again, maybe a princess lost in the vacuum of the present and past. But she did hear the Demon girl call out her name. The feather was golden; it was time for her to kill. But she was exhausted. There was no more energy in her blood. Through watery eyes, Diane saw glimpses of her companion getting closer. Unable to control himself, Thomas burnt the people he passed. Demons were no exception. Their burns took too long to heal, so they screamed out for their commander. It was a disaster worth escaping.
“Retreat!” the girl yelled. She gave one last look to Diane, one filled with disappointment, before disappearing through the open balcony.
Thomas kept marching forward with nothing to stop him. It seemed as if he would be the one to finish off the remains of once a chatty group of liars. People screamed, cried, and vomited their fear. With all the strength she had left, Diane managed to push herself back to her feet. She heard her fathe coming closer to her from behind. The golden feather was gone, waiting for another opportunity to save criminals. Thomas then fell on Diane, his head resting on her bloody shoulder. His flames had disappeared, allowing Diane to embrace him. Almost all of his flesh was gone, and he looked more dead than alive.
She brushed her fingers through his hair. “You've done well, our Fool.”