This is the second half of the same story! If you haven't read it yet, you can find Part 1 here. Enjoy...
Lucian waits on the doorstep of the Enfield house, cradling Mina close to his chest as Fin fusses with the keys. Fin mutters curses under his breath as his hand continues to drift to the side, missing the lock. Lucian glances around, examining the outside of their house as he waits. He’s never been here before. Seeing where Fin and Mina live is starting to fill in some gaps in what he knows about both of them. Lucian expected that, as Sun Level nobility, they’d be living in luxury. While they certainly aren’t living in squalor, he doesn’t know that he’d call it luxury either.
The house isn’t as large as he thought it would be. For some reason, Lucian always pictured Fin’s house as a mansion. Beyond that, the outside isn’t as tidy as it was clearly meant to be. The small courtyard looks like it was once a beautiful garden, and Lucian can almost picture its former glory, but now it’s overtaken by weeds. Vines crawl up the house, rooting into the siding, something that ordinarily would have been trimmed back to prevent damage. Grass creeps onto the pathway, blending it into the rest of the ground. In short, the Enfield house looks overgrown and forgotten. Well, mostly forgotten. Right around the front step, someone had been caring for a collection of little, blue flowers, the weeds pushed back just enough to give them room to breathe.
To Lucian’s limited knowledge, most nobility keep automaton servants to care for things like gardening, cooking, and cleaning. Clearly, Fin and Mina don’t have one, or their house wouldn’t look like this. So, who was caring for the flowers? Lucian glances at Fin, who’s getting increasingly frustrated with his lack of coordination. It couldn’t be him, Fin would never take time to consider something as small and unimportant as flowers. It seems like he can barely care for himself these days.
Lucian looks down at Mina. So, that leaves her. It doesn’t surprise him, but he does feel like he just found a new window to Mina’s heart; something as delicate and sweet as the flowers themselves. He examines the freckles scattered across her nose, pondering it.
Then he remembers what happened earlier. Heat rises to his face and he looks away again.
There was alcohol on her breath. Was she drunk that whole time they were talking? She might not even remember it when she wakes up.
I wish I could forget…
Though, if that were the case, it shouldn’t be playing over and over again in his head, should it?
Fin finally throws open the door and stumbles inside. Lucian hesitantly follows after him, feeling unusual and out of place.
This isn’t my world, Lucian thinks as he tracks mud inside.
It doesn’t seem to bother Fin. He kicks off his shoes wantonly, letting them land in the doorway. Then he flops into a nearby chair, plush and well-loved, and releases a hefty sigh. Lucian carefully steps over Fin’s shoes.
“Where should I-” Lucian starts.
“Mina’s room is over there,” Fin says, gesturing in a vague direction. “Just… tuck her in or something, I don’t know.”
Lucian hesitates, glancing down the hallway Fin indicated.
“I’m sorry, Fin. I didn’t mean to-”
“I know you didn’t mean to put her to sleep, but you did, so now you have to deal with it,” Fin says, staring at the ceiling. “Don’t expect me to do it for you.”
That wasn’t what Lucian was going to say, but he doesn’t correct him. Then again, Lucian’s not entirely sure what he did mean to say. There are a lot of things he didn’t mean to do today.
He didn’t mean to be late to meet Fin.
He didn’t mean to make Fin angry.
He didn’t mean to hurt Mina.
He didn’t mean to use his magic on her.
He also doesn’t mean to track mud all over their carpet, but he still does as he carries Mina to her bedroom. It seems that footprints aren’t the only trail he’s leaving by coming to the Sun Level today. Some Blade he is.
Fin wasn’t clear in his instructions, but Lucian’s pretty sure he knows Mina’s room when he sees it. It looks like her room, her personality painted across every inch of it. He lays her in the bed, and she rolls over onto her side with a soft sigh. Lucian hesitates for a moment.
Am I supposed to tuck her in? Should I take her shoes off? What am I supposed to…?
If he felt out of place earlier, it feels so much worse standing in Mina’s room. Every corner of his brain screams at him that this isn’t right, that he shouldn’t be here. Lucian takes a step back from her bed.
I should just go back to the Moon Level, forget any of this happened. I don’t need to talk to Fin, I’ll be fine-
Something catches his eye as he’s about to leave Mina’s room, and he pauses. There’s a long shelf on the wall with 9 small boxes in a row. Lucian steps up to the shelf and looks over the puzzle boxes. The first one on the shelf… He recognizes it. He reaches out a tentative hand to it, then glances at Mina, as though she’ll suddenly wake up and be upset that he’s touching her things. Still asleep. Of course she is. He knows his magic lasts for at least 4 hours, sometimes longer. Lucian picks up the first puzzle box on the shelf and turns it over in his hand. If he’s not mistaken…
He slides in one of the panels, turns it over, slides another panel. Turn this, pull this out, slide one more panel, and then-
A tiny, flat drawer pops out of the box. Lucian slides it open and sees a note tucked inside. He sets the box down and unfolds the note, curiosity peaked. He recognizes Fin’s handwriting.
Happy birthday, Mina. You said all the puzzles father gets you are too easy. I took that as a challenge. I’ll bet this took you at least an hour, didn’t it? Next year it’ll be two, just watch.
On the flip side of the note is different handwriting, the letters sharp, but flowing.
Time: 32 minutes
A little laugh slips out from Lucian, and he shakes his head. Then he folds up the note, slides the drawer back, and closes up the box again. He’s about to place it back on the shelf, but then thinks better of it.
Lucian steps back out to the main room to see Fin still flopped in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Fin glances over at Lucian, and a golden glow fizzles out in his eyes. Lucian holds up the puzzle box.
“You never told me that this was a gift for Mina,” he says.
“Didn’t I?” Fin says dryly.
Lucian tosses the box to Fin, and Fin’s barely able to catch it when it hits his chest and almost rolls onto the floor.
“You said that constructing it was some test you had to do for House Logos,” Lucian says.
Fin examines the box lazily.
“Not exactly a lie, then, hmm?” he says.
“Did you think that I wouldn’t help you with the schematics if I knew it was for your new family, and not some silly test for your noble status?” Lucian asks.
Fin pauses, then looks at Lucian, his face suddenly serious.
“I think you forget the kind of person you were back then, Lucian.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Fin scoffs.
“I know how upset you were when I left the Moon Temple. After that, you seemed like you were jealous of all the time I spent with my little sister. When I asked for your help with the schematics, I was fairly certain that knowing who it was for would feel like a betrayal to you.”
Fin tosses the box back to Lucian, which Lucian catches. Fin watches him carefully.
“Was I wrong?” he asks.
Lucian stares at the puzzle box.
“Then why did you ask for my help in the first place?” he asks.
Fin laughs.
“Because when I’m trying to outsmart the brightest person I know, I thought it made sense to consult with the second-brightest person I know.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Lucian says, raising an eyebrow.
Fin smirks.
“Think of it this way, Lucian. You and I managed to stump her for a whole 30 minutes,” he says.
“32, actually,” Lucian says, remembering the note.
Fin smiles, fondly this time. “Right. 32. That’s my record for her, you know. Never been able to stump her for longer than that. She thinks it takes her hours, but that’s because she eventually stopped timing herself. I still time her, though. She averages 15 minutes.”
Lucian turns the puzzle box around thoughtfully.
“She’s…”
“Amazing, I know,” Fin finishes. “But I would relegate you to the fifth-brightest person I know if you hadn’t realized that by now, Lucian.”
Lucian slips a small smile at that. Fin watches him curiously.
“So, what happened? How’d you end up using your magic on her?”
Lucian’s smile falls away, and he clutches the box tightly in his hand. His feet begin to pace, restlessness chasing at his heels.
“She kissed me,” he says.
Fin blinks.
“Women these days,” he mutters.
“What?”
“Nothing. Did you kiss her back?” Fin asks.
“Fin, she was drunk,” Lucian says, giving him a glare.
“That’s a ‘no,’ then.”
“Clearly, the only thing I gave her in return was a nice nap. She’s lucky I caught her, or I might’ve given her a concussion too.”
“How romantic.”
“It’s not funny, Fin.”
“Lucian.”
“What?”
“Sit down, before you burn a hole in my carpet.”
Lucian stops and looks down at his feet. Then he slowly lowers himself onto the couch across from Fin, and Fin smiles grimly at him.
“So, your new magic. I think I can guess why you wanted to talk to me, Lucian,” he says.
Lucian lowers his eyes, distracting himself with the puzzle box. Fin rolls his eyes.
“Nothing? Fine, I’ll talk then. New magic means you have a new tattoo. The next tattoo you were meant to get was your Blades tattoo, which means you’re a full Blade now. So… Luna’s Blades.” Fin narrows his eyes. “...Not treating you well, I take it?”
Lucian stiffens.
“That’s not it,” he says.
“Which part? Because I think I know-”
“It has nothing to do with how the Moon Temple is treating me,” Lucian says. He’s surprised by the harshness of his own voice. Fin is too, based on his face.
Fin looks like he’s about to say something, then closes his mouth again, waiting for Lucian to speak instead. Lucian sighs and drops the puzzle box beside himself on the couch. He buries his face in his hands.
“I’m just so… Tired.”
Fin watches him, and Lucian expects to hear another one of his sarcastic comments, but he remains quiet, the silence heavy between them. Then Fin gives a long sigh.
“I think I know the feeling,” he says, his voice unusually soft.
A clock ticks somewhere in the house, and Lucian feels the weight of the whole world pressing on his shoulders. The air is thick with regret and unmet expectations, and in the quiet, it’s as though everything matters all at once, and yet means nothing at the same time. But for the first time in a long while, Lucian can sense that weight shift. It’s not any lighter, or easier to carry, but he can tell that Fin’s carrying it too. Maybe it’s the same hurt, or maybe it isn’t. But for some reason, that doesn’t bother him.
For a moment, two souls commiserate in silence, bound through unspoken pain.
“Lucian, I have a headache right now that you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’ll make coffee.”
Fin can’t help pulling a face when he drinks the coffee. Lucian always makes it too strong. When they were younger, he used to say it helped him stay awake. Fin’s not convinced coffee actually does anything to help Lucian on that front, but perhaps it’s psychological. Lucian drains his coffee almost as quickly as Fin drained his shots earlier. Fin looks at his mug with distaste and sets it aside.
“Does it actually help with your magic?” Fin asks. “The coffee?”
Lucian looks at the residual coffee grounds at the bottom of his mug with a frown.
“I like the taste,” he decides.
“Then you have terrible taste,” Fin points out.
Lucian scowls at him.
“I must, if I consider you a friend,” he says.
“You call me a friend?”
“I call you a bastard too, but I don’t hear you complaining about that,” Lucian says.
Fin stands up and wanders aimlessly over to the hearth. He examines the bricks thoughtfully.
“Then I rescind my statement,” Fin says. “You don’t have terrible taste.”
Lucian watches him dryly, waiting for the punchline. Fin flashes him a grin.
“You have the worst taste of anyone I’ve ever met,” he finishes.
“Bastard,” Lucian says flatly.
“Always,” Fin says, giving him a little bow.
Lucian gives him a hint of a smile, and Fin feels a flicker of pride. It’s a challenge, getting Lucian to laugh. He was always stoic, even as a child. Fin supposes that’s not the sort of thing you grow out of, but he’s since learned how to speak Lucian’s language. As prickly as he appears on the surface, there’s a warmth beneath it all, something he only shares with those he’s closest to. Fin counts himself lucky to still be considered among that small group of people.
Lucian's smile falls away again, and he turns his attention to the puzzle box, rolling it around in his hands.
“I think your taste is lacking too, Fin,” he says.
Fin leans against the hearth and smirks.
“Oh, undoubtedly,” he says. “If you could drink that whiskey in my office, I’m sure you’d agree.”
Lucian doesn’t smile this time, keeping his attention on the box.
“I’m a worse friend to you than you’ve ever been to me,” he says.
Fin watches Lucian for a moment, considering that. He doesn’t believe it for a second. Fin’s had his fair share of terrible friends, if they could even be called “friends.” There are people who use him, and there are people he steps over to get what he needs. He’s met so many Lady Parlows in his life… And then there’s Lucian. He’s only met one of those. If either of them is a terrible friend, it’s not Lucian.
“It’s been so long since we’ve talked…” Lucian trails off. “I should’ve-”
“You were becoming a Blade, Lucian. I don’t hold you responsible for that,” Fin interrupts.
No, that blame lies with the Moon Temple. Vaughn, Iris, the Priestess, they were the ones keeping him there, telling him that nothing else in his life matters more than becoming one of Luna’s Blades. Fin supposes he’s partially responsible for the rift between them as well, but he’s tired of shouldering the blame. Hasn’t he done that enough already?
Fin feels the itch to activate his dampening magic again, just to make the feelings go away, but he would never do that with Lucian sitting right in front of him. He picks up the horrid coffee again. It’s a decent distraction, at least.
Lucian absently pops open the little drawer in the puzzle box, then assembles it again.
“Vaughn and Iris are gone now,” he says. “They left Auroris after Aaron and I were initiated.”
Unlike Lucian, Fin was never as good at reading the fine movements and expressions of a person. Lucian also doesn’t make it easy to read him. But something about the rapid flick of his fingers as he opens and closes the box, or the quiet intensity in his eyes, and Fin gets the sense that he’s hurting. It’s almost the same thing he saw in him when he’d left the Moon Temple ten years ago. Lucian was convinced that Fin would never talk to him again after he became a noble. Obviously, he was wrong, but he knows Lucian deals poorly with goodbyes.
A part of Fin is dying to know what happened. He’s surprised that Vaughn and Iris would just up and leave. From what he remembers of them, their dedication to Luna and her bloody work knew no bounds. But he knows that Lucian will refuse to speak on it if he presses too hard, so he lets the questions slide.
“How long have you and Aaron been Luna’s Blades, then?” he asks instead.
Lucian hesitates for a moment before responding.
“It’s been a month,” he says.
Fin sips at the coffee again.
Gods, that’s awful, he thinks, choking it down.
Lucian looks up at him, and a smirk plays on his lips.
“You don’t have to drink it if it’s too strong, Fin,” he says.
“It’s not too-” he coughs, then scowls into his mug. “It’s not too strong,” he mutters.
Lucian sets aside the puzzle box, stands up, and holds out his hand expectantly. Fin stubbornly takes another sip of the coffee and screws up his face again.
“Are you sure you didn’t poison this, Blade?” he says.
Lucian rolls his eyes, then pulls the mug out of Fin’s hand. He drinks the rest of it himself, and Fin scowls.
“Not poisoned,” Lucian says.
“Easy for you to say, you have healing magic,” Fin says.
“Being a noble’s made you more dramatic than usual, Fin.”
“No, it just gave me an audience,” Fin says, giving him a side-eye. “And I’ve grown used to putting on a show.”
Lucian pauses and searches his face for a moment. Gods, he hates when he does that. It reminds him of what Iris used to do when she was about to call him out on a lie.
“You don’t have to put on a show for me, Fin,” Lucian says finally.
It’s a simple phrase, and it’s said in Lucian’s particular, softer voice that somehow ascribes weight to the words without judgment. It shouldn’t hit Fin as hard as it does, but it feels like a gods-damned freight train. He doesn’t even know what to say.
“I’m… Not,” he says carefully.
It’s a clumsier lie than he would normally deliver. Lucian frowns, seeing right through it.
At the Moon Temple, when Iris would get angry with him, she used to call him a “lying little rat.” Fin couldn’t even argue with the statement. At the time, he was all three of those things: a former street rat, scrawny and malnourished, and yet still a practiced liar, even at such a young age. Back then he was used to getting whatever he wanted in one of two ways: using his magic, or through deception. The law of the street rats was simple: either you’re big and strong enough to survive, or you’re quick and smart enough. Fin wasn’t the first option, so he became the second. He was able to dance circles around the other kids, and in return they gave no small amount of admiration for him and his magic. Putting on a show for them was fun, it made him feel powerful. But at the Moon Temple, the things that made him strong suddenly became an object of shame, something to be corrected and controlled. Iris took one look at him with her truth-seeking magic, and the only thing she saw was a “lying little rat.” It made Fin feel like an ant beneath a magnifying glass, helpless as she burned away things like his pride, his agency, his very self. What was left was only the show, the ant writhing in agony. Even after he crawled away to the Sun Level, that show just didn’t stop.
He doesn’t have to put on a show?
“Lucian, I am the show,” Fin says, his voice cracking apart like the fragile pieces of himself.
Fin feels something strange then, a sliver of calm weaving its way through his mind like a breeze on a hot day. He grips that feeling the moment he sees it, wrapping it tightly around himself like a ribbon. It settles comfortably, naturally. He sighs.
Lucian takes a step back, wariness shadowing his face.
“Fin, your eyes…”
Fin glances at a nearby window, and in the dim reflection he can see a flash of light from his eyes. He stares at it for a moment.
“Oh.”
But he holds the magic anyway, unable to bring himself to let it go.
“What… Ability is that?” Lucian asks slowly.
He’s right to be cautious, but it’s of no danger to him. Fin responds with the truth because his magic says there’s no reason to lie to him.
“Emotional dampening,” he says, his voice flat.
“I don’t remember you having that ability.”
“I know.”
“How long?”
“Ten years.”
Lucian looks shocked and a little hurt. Fin imagines realizing that you’ve been lied to for ten years doesn’t feel very nice. But what does it matter to him? He doesn’t feel anything right now.
“You don’t need to worry, Lucian. It only works on myself,” Fin says, examining the light of his eyes in the window.
Lucian stares at him, then crosses his arms.
“That’s not why I’m worried, Fin,” he says.
Fin looks back at Lucian, not understanding. The magic has such a tight grip on him that he can’t even begin to fathom what his friend might be feeling. In fact, Fin almost feels like he’s no longer in control of himself. Normally, that would bother him, but at the moment he doesn’t care in the slightest. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
“Why did you activate it just now?” Lucian asks.
“I didn’t,” Fin responds. “It triggered itself.”
“Then why are you still using it?”
Fin blinks.
“Why shouldn’t I?” he asks.
Lucian narrows his eyes.
“What are the side effects? We all have them,” he says.
“The side effects only trigger when I release the magic, not before,” Fin says matter-of-factly. “It’s in my best interest to keep using it.”
“You can’t just constantly use magic, Fin.”
“Hypothetically, I could,” Fin points out.
“Maybe, if you don’t mind all of Auroris knowing you’re a demigod,” Lucian says with a scowl.
Sound logic. Fin may be buried deep in apathy with this ability, but the fear of others learning about his magic is rooted deeper still, carved into his very flesh. Fin’s hand drifts up to feel the webbed scar under his left eye, its ridges familiar, its source unforgettable. The glow in his eyes flickers out…
…And the pain is instantaneous.
Fin sinks into his chair again and grits his teeth, lowering his head into his hands. He thought the headache he’d gotten earlier when Mina arrived at home was the worst he could experience. That was nothing compared to this.
Is it because my magic triggered itself? he wonders frantically, thoughts barely able to form through the blurry haze of pain. It had never done that before. He didn’t even know it was possible.
Fin’s vaguely aware of Lucian trying to speak to him, but he can’t process the words. He feels Lucian put a hand on his shoulder, and Fin blearily looks up at him, blinking away tears that had begun forming in the corners of his eyes. Leaking out from the pressure in his head, no doubt, nothing more.
“Office…” Fin manages to say. “Bottle… Please…”
Lucian’s gone. Fin curls back in on himself, as though he can just shrink away and cease to exist. The world is too big, and too loud, and too bright. For a moment, he feels like a child again, curled up and alone in a Moon Level gutter, covered in his own blood, waiting to die… But he managed to drag his sorry ass to the Moon Temple back then. Say what you will about rats, but they’re entirely too stubborn to just up and die.
Lucian returns and hands Fin the bottle of whiskey. Fin wastes no time drinking as much as he feels like he needs. Lucian circles to the windows and draws the curtains, blocking out the sun’s angry glare, watching Fin out of the corner of his eye. The whiskey doesn’t work that quickly, but it takes just enough of the edge off that Fin can finally form a cohesive thought. He drops the now-empty bottle on the floor.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
Lucian snaps the last curtain shut, then turns on the lamp in the corner of the room, its soft, blue glow much more comfortable against the pain in his head. Fin can’t bring himself to look at Lucian.
“You weren’t supposed to see any of that,” Fin says quietly.
Lucian doesn’t respond beyond lightly taking a seat on the couch across from him. Fin wipes away what tears were left in his eyes.
“You’re angry,” Fin says, more as a statement of fact than a question.
Lucian leans forward and props an elbow on his knee, resting his chin on his hand.
“No…” he says. “I’m worried.”
“For me? You shouldn’t have,” Fin says wryly. He winces, but manages to give Lucian a smile anyway.
Lucian doesn’t smile back. Fin hangs his head, staring at the empty bottle on the floor.
“Dammit, Lucian, just tell me what you’re thinking. I hate the suspense.”
Lucian’s quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. His voice is soft and cool, like usual.
“Is this why you drink so much?” he asks.
Fin nudges the empty bottle with his foot.
“Liquor’s the only thing that takes the pain away,” he says.
“You’re going to drink yourself to death.”
Fin shrugs, giving Lucian a half smile.
“There are worse ways to go.”
Lucian watches Fin, his expression guarded.
“If that ability hurts you so much, why even use it? It doesn’t seem worth it to me,” he says.
Fin laughs, leaning back in his chair. He rubs a hand across his forehead, smoothing out the tension.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Lucian. You can dampen your emotions naturally, without the help of magic. It’s just who you are. The rest of us aren’t so lucky.”
Lucian tilts his head.
“That’s not true. I feel things just as much as you do.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“If you’re done trying to change the subject, would you listen to me for a moment?” Lucian says. His voice remains calm, but there’s a hint of sharpness that snaps Fin to attention.
Lucian’s gaze drifts to the floor, voice softening again.
“I get why you do it. Sometimes it’s easier to shut yourself away and feel nothing at all, pretend like the world doesn’t hurt you, or like you don’t hurt it. There’s safety in anonymity, I know that better than anyone…”
Lucian picks up the puzzle box again, looking at it softly.
“But even if nothing matters to you, you still matter. You have people who love you, Fin. People who need you, all of you…”
Lucian meets Fin’s eyes, and Fin flinches away from the raw honesty he sees there.
“You can’t just shut that away,” Lucian finishes.
Lucian’s words are like rain on the surface of Fin’s mind. While it was previously still, it disrupts the water just enough to send ripples across it, stirring up what’s underneath. All the pain from the last several months, the frustration, the grief that comes from simply being alive in a world that couldn’t care less, it drifts to the surface. For the first time in a long while, Fin allows himself to feel it. He takes a ragged breath, and tears spring unbidden to his eyes, much like his magic did earlier.
“I’m tired of being needed, Lucian. Everyone wants something from me, needs something from me… I only have so much to give before I’m completely empty.”
Fin clenches his fist, angry at the world.
“Can’t I just be selfish for once? Is it so wrong to keep something for myself? What do I owe people, that they’re so deserving of my mind, of my magic, of… me?”
Lucian’s brow furrows as he considers that, and something flickers deep in his eyes that tells Fin he feels the exact same way, even if he would never say it. He taps his fingers on the puzzle box absently.
“I don’t believe there’s meaning to be found in selfishness,” he says. “It’s a temporary pleasure. Dive too deep into it, and you’ll drown in your own madness.”
Fin wipes at his eyes again and holds his hand up to the light of the lamp, letting the soft, blue glow filter through his fingers.
“Perhaps I’ve already done that,” he says.
“Then I’ll learn to swim,” Lucian says, glancing at him.
Fin lowers his hand and frowns.
“Do you fancy drowning, Lucian? Because that’s what will happen if you tie yourself to someone like me.”
“For someone who spends so much time in his own head, you don’t seem to know yourself at all, Fin.”
Fin cracks a rueful smile. He’s so optimistic about his nature. But Fin knows the truth. There’s plenty that Lucian doesn’t know about him. The parts of Fin have been scattered so far to the wind that no single person knows each of his faces besides himself. No, Fin knows exactly who he is, and he knows what he does to people, no matter how much he might care for them.
“Just remember that I warned you,” he says.
Lucian raises an eyebrow and climbs to his feet.
“Your warning has been considered and discarded,” he says. He tosses the puzzle box in the air and catches it again. “How’s your headache?”
“I feel like someone tried to split my head open with a meat cleaver.”
“Are you going to use that ability again?”
Fin taps his fingers on his knee.
“Only time can tell,” he says eventually.
Lucian scowls at him, and Fin smiles smugly in return. Lucian sighs and shakes his head.
“It’ll do,” he mutters.
Lucian sets the puzzle box down carefully and turns to Fin, crossing his arms.
“My sleep touch ability has the added effect of healing others as well,” he says.
Fin looks at him curiously.
“You have tandem magic now? Lucky bastard.”
“If I put you to sleep, your headache should be gone. Theoretically.”
Fin scowls.
“You could have done that this whole time, and you’re only just telling me this now?” he says.
Lucian gives him a deadpan look.
“I can’t talk to you while you’re sleeping,” he says.
Fin scoffs.
“And I thought I was the asshole.”
Lucian smirks.
“I never claimed to be otherwise.”
“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
Lucian looks at his hand thoughtfully.
“Fin,” he says.
Fin frowns.
“What.”
Lucian’s eyes flash purple.
“Don’t get on my bad side,” he says.
Lucian taps Fin’s forehead, and in an instant, Fin feels sleep’s warm embrace. His eyes drift closed, headache fading into the background in the blissful quiet.
“No promises…” he murmurs.
Lucian sits in the quiet for a while, listening to the ticking of the clock and Fin’s soft breathing across from him. He wonders if they dream, and if they do, are they pleasant dreams? He’ll have to ask Aaron what it feels like.
Lucian finishes off the last of the coffee he made, but only because he doesn’t want Fin to have to deal with it when he wakes up. No point in letting it go to waste. For most people, drinking that much coffee would make them feel wired. He does, but it’s not because of the coffee.
Lucian fidgets with the puzzle box a bit more, its weight strangely comforting in his hands. He feels more awake than ever every time he uses this magic, almost as though forcing others to sleep siphons off his own ability to rest. He hasn’t slept at all in the last 3 days, despite his best efforts. At this point, coffee is a last ditch effort to force himself to rest, as if pushing his body into overdrive will inevitably result in a crash. It hasn’t worked though. The net result is simply more exhaustion without the relief of sleep.
Lucian scoops up the empty whiskey bottle at Fin’s feet and looks at it thoughtfully. It’s the one thing he hasn’t tried, drinking alcohol again. Something he’s learned about himself over the years is that stimulants have very little effect on him due to his magic. Relaxants, however, work perhaps too well. He doesn’t understand why, no amount of research has provided an explanation for his peculiar ailment, but he hasn’t touched the stuff since he was 15.
He glances at Fin.
No doubt that incident is burned into his memory as well, perhaps even more so than it is for Lucian. After all, Lucian had been asleep that entire time.
It happened a few years after Fin’s adoption. Fin was having trouble adjusting to noble life, buckling under the weight of all the expectations that were suddenly placed on him. He hadn’t quite outgrown his rebellious streak yet, and Lucian was just starting to discover his own, short-lived though it was. So, when Fin came to pay him a visit at the Moon Temple with a bottle of gin he’d swiped from his father’s study, Lucian was all too eager to share in the bounty. They huddled in their old hideout on the roof of the temple, passing the bottle back and forth between them, both waiting for a drunken euphoria that never came to either of them. It only took 3 sips before Lucian was out like a light. Supposedly, Fin waited an hour before he realized that Lucian wasn’t waking up. He dragged him down from the roof and begged Helen for help, all contrite tears. Lucian woke up 2 weeks later to find Fin sitting by his bedside. Evidently, Fin hadn’t left the Moon Temple that entire time, and his adoptive father was worried sick. Lucian wonders now what Mina thought of the whole situation at the time. She would have been, what, 13?
Lucian turns the empty whiskey bottle over in his hand, allowing the memories to marinate as he considers the possibilities.
He would sleep if he drank. The question is just for how long.
Lucian steps into the kitchen, picking up the coffee mugs as he goes. He discards the empty bottle in the trash, along with his theory.
Some risks aren’t worth taking, he thinks as he washes up the mugs.
He’ll sleep eventually, one way or another. But he’s not about to fall into the same trap that Fin did, trying to manage his magic through external substances. Vaughn taught him that all that’s required is self discipline and a mind over matter approach.
Lucian rubs at his eyes with a sigh.
If only my mind wasn’t so tired…
But, it had only been a month. One of these days, he’ll master both his magic and being Luna’s Blade. But it takes patience and a cool head.
Lucian leaves the kitchen and begins scrubbing at the muddy tracks he left on the Enfield’s carpet. Bad practice, leaving a trail. He should have avoided the mud in the first place, but he was so distracted by Mina…
Lucian sits on the floor, staring at the now-clean carpet fibers. The words he’d said earlier to Fin return to mind.
You matter to people.
It was so easy to tell Fin that, but accepting it for himself is a different beast entirely. Lucian knows the value he holds in the eyes of the Moon Temple. He’s Luna’s Blade, bound by a sacred duty only he can do. To them, he’s virtually priceless. But Mina doesn’t know any of that about him. For her, his value rests in… What? He’s given her nothing either tangible or intangible, and yet she made the decision that his company matters to her to the point where it grieves her to go without it. If he’s honest with himself, he almost feels the same way about her.
Mina’s like a shadow: an indication of something greater, but reduced to a mere silhouette, indistinct in its nature, but offering just enough of a glimpse to evoke curiosity in its origin. To be sure, she’s a curiosity to him. The more he learns of her, the more he wants to uncover, to examine the various facets of her that differ so greatly from himself. But at the end of the day, it’s only a shadow. You could ponder the silhouette all day long and still never understand it. You can rest your hand on the shadow and never touch it.
Puritatem per lunae lumen.
That’s the motto of a Blade: purification through the moon’s light.
If Lucian is meant to represent Luna’s light, he’s supposed to chase away shadows, not embrace them. That’s the analogy the Priestess would always use.
Lucian pauses as another idea comes to mind unbidden:
Unless I’m meant to cast the shadow, he thinks. Light doesn’t banish shadows, it creates them. Isn’t that embracing them?
Immediately, the thought feels like sin. It’s not what he was taught, and the implications of his logic are farther reaching than he initially believed. He’s supposed to discard such thoughts. They’re a fluke; the product of an imperfect mind. Lucian is about to release the thought like he did his earlier ones about dealing with his magic, but this one clings to him like spider silk. It feels like sin, but somehow it also feels like… Hope.
I cast the shadow, he thinks again.
The creation of his own destiny.
A beautiful thought.
A dangerous thought.
There’s no room for it in his heart, but he makes space. A forbidden corner, home to a single instance of rebellion: something consistent with the philosophy of his goddess, but inconsistent with the philosophy of her people. Perhaps he’s wrong to keep it, but he warms himself by that tiny flame, and the pressures and worries that have built up inside him steadily melt away.
Lucian gets up from the floor and retrieves Mina’s puzzle box from the couch. He steps into her room and carefully places it back on her shelf, leaving it exactly as it was before. Lucian glances at Mina. She’s curled up on her side, expression soft and peaceful in her sleep.
The shadow to his light. For a moment he wonders what shapes they could form if he allowed their lives to entangle like she wants. Like he wants.
Maybe his sleep deprivation invites a hint of insanity, because Lucian suddenly looks around Mina’s room, eyes hunting for something. He finds it on her desk: a loose piece of paper and a pen. Any hesitations he has are temporarily forgotten, his flash of rebellion making him bold and impulsive. The words come easy; short and sweet:
Mina,
I’m sorry I never wrote back. You deserve better than that. I’ll say it again: you’re not crazy, or if you are then we’re of the same madness. I can’t promise you anything as grand as my hand or my heart, but you’ve already captured my thoughts, so I suppose that’s a start. Let’s see where things go from here.
Best of luck with House Cassis. I’m sure you’ll be the greatest cop on the force…
Lucian raises the pen and examines the letter. A wry smile crosses his lips. He’ll say it. Why not?
…Luna knows you’re already the prettiest.
He folds the note then, before he can change his mind, and tucks it under the puzzle box. He trusts that she’ll notice its displacement. Lucian goes to leave the room, placing his hand on the doorframe as he passes.
“Lucian…”
He freezes, hearing Mina drowsily slur his name. Lucian hesitantly looks back at her, perching in the doorway like a bird about to take flight. She’s still asleep, eyes shut with a dreamy smile on her lips. Lucian’s eyes linger on her mouth for a moment, remembering. He slowly releases a breath, then slips out the door.
Maybe they do have nice dreams after all. The next time he sleeps, perhaps he’ll be so lucky as to share in hers.
Fin drags himself out of sleep to the smell of coffee. Good coffee, this time, not whatever shit Lucian liked to brew. Fin drowsily sits up and looks around the front room of their house. The curtains are open again, the warm, orange glow of dawn trickling in through the windows. Fin tentatively touches his forehead, cautious of moving too quickly and triggering his headache again, but it seems to be gone completely. He blinks and looks up when he hears soft humming coming from the kitchen.
Fin drifts into the kitchen, feeling that odd sense of weightlessness that only comes from a good, deep sleep. Mina’s making coffee. She stops humming when she sees him.
“Have a good sleep on the couch?” she asks, pouring herself coffee.
Fin slowly takes a seat at the counter, and is surprised when Mina slides the coffee over to him.
“Best I’ve had in a while, actually,” he says.
Mina’s brow furrows as she pours another mug.
“Me too. I was expecting to wake up with a hangover, but I feel perfectly fine,” she says.
Fascinating. Apparently, Lucian’s healing magic cures a hangover too. He really is the best person to go drinking with. Fin looks into his mug. No coffee grounds floating in it this time.
“How much do you remember from last evening?” he asks.
Mina leans against the counter and looks at her mug thoughtfully.
“I remember going to the bar with you and waiting for Lucian… And I remember drinking a bit too much. Admittedly, it’s all a bit of a blur after that,” she says.
Fin grins.
“Ah, so you don’t remember- Never mind, I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”
Mina blinks.
“Tell me what? What happened?”
Fin drinks his coffee then, giving her a side-eye. It’s so much better than Lucian’s coffee. That stuff should be outlawed. Mina frowns when Fin refuses to answer.
“Did Lucian show up, or was that just a dream?” she asks.
“You dream about him often enough that you have to ask that question?” Fin asks with a mischievous smile.
Mina blushes, frantically scrambling for a response. Fin decides to put her out of her misery.
“Yes, he was there,” he says. “In fact, he’s the one that carried your drunk ass home. You should probably thank him, I would’ve left you there.”
Mina rubs a hand over her face, as if shielding herself with her fingers will prevent Fin from seeing her embarrassment. She slips her other hand in her pocket and pulls out a small note. She slides it across the counter to him, still hiding her face.
“That… That explains this, then,” she says.
Fin takes the note and unfolds it, looking at it curiously.
“He didn’t sign it, so I wasn’t sure-” Mina trails off.
Fin skims the note, then grins. Mina lowers her hand and looks at him anxiously.
“You know his handwriting. That’s him, right?” Mina asks.
Fin folds the note again, stands up, and slides it back over to her, smiling smugly.
“You should keep that close,” he says.
“Is that a yes?” Mina asks, her eyes wide.
Fin turns to leave the kitchen, taking his coffee with him.
“You kissed him,” he says casually.
“WHAT?”
“I guess he liked it,” Fin adds, stepping out the doorway. “Don’t worry, he said he didn’t kiss you back because you were drunk. I suppose this means he wants a round two, though.”
Mina stares after him dumbfounded, her coffee mug forgotten in her hand.
“I- I didn’t…” she stammers.
“Don’t forget about your inauguration ceremony today!” Fin says.
Mina looks down at her coffee.
“Shit,” she says.
Then she looks at the clock on the wall, and her eyes widen.
“Shit!” she says again.
Fin steps aside as Mina leaves her mug on the counter and flies out the kitchen door.
“Didn’t realize I overslept,” she mutters as she passes.
Fin smirks.
“Happens,” he says lightly, sipping at his coffee.
Mina disappears into her room to get ready, and Fin stays alone in the kitchen doorway. He glances at the clock himself.
Lady Parlow had said they were taking the vote for Prohibition this morning. If he hurries, he might be able to throw in his vote as well. It wouldn’t be much, but with such a controversial law, even one more vote could very well turn the tide. He’d seen it happen before. Even if the upper nobility were pulling the strings behind the scenes, there were enough other lords and ladies of the same mind as himself to make a dent.
Fin stares into his coffee.
As much as he’s against Prohibition on principle, he knows that’s not the real reason he doesn’t want it to pass. Forced sobriety would be a messy process. Even now, he feels the pull to reach out to his dampening magic again. It dances just out of reach, promising to guide him to the most rational decision.
He hears Mina throwing her things together in a mad scramble to make herself presentable for the most important moment of her life. The thing Fin had been urging her toward for years.
Fin slowly steps back over to the kitchen counter and sets down his coffee mug next to Mina’s.
Time’s wasting, he thinks.
What was it that Lucian had said last evening? Fin runs over the conversation again in his head, faster than a blink.
Mina dashes toward the door, still pinning up a few last wisps of hair as she does.
“I’ll see you after the ceremony, Fin!” she says.
Fin says nothing as the door closes behind her. The clock ticks. Steam rises from the mugs on the counter.
Fin moves.
The sun and moon are pale against the dawn sky, their light blanketing the Sun Level in gentle warmth.
Mina bounces on her toes anxiously as she waits on the side of the street for a taxi. Fin steps up beside her, straightening his coat. Mina looks at him in surprise.
“You’re coming with me?” she asks. “I thought you’d have more important things to do today.”
“And miss your ceremony?” Fin says, giving her a wry smile. “Never.”
Mina’s eyes brighten and she looks forward, her smile radiating pride.
They wait for the taxi together, enjoying the light, morning breeze.
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