Ideworld Chronicles: The Art Mage

Act 3, Chapter 10: The rush of the countdown

Day in the story: 31st December (Wednesday), half an hour to midnightHer touch was warm, and her shadowlight felt non-intrusive, yet it was still reaching for something connected to me that I couldn’t quite place. It worked around me rather than trying to get into me, as if it were searching for an external force bound to me. I let her do what she was doing—and even if I wanted to repel it somehow, I had no authority over what she was doing whatsoever.

This felt like she could be the real deal, and I was excited for the magic to show me my future, even if it came in vague, riddle-like sentences.

So while she was trying to read me, I read her face in return. Her eyes were closed, and she looked as if the effort required was immense—which was strange, as I wasn’t opposing her in any way. A thin line of sweat ran down her forehead, crossed an eyelid, and dropped onto the table.

“So?” I asked. “Are we just going to hold hands?”

My question didn’t break her out of her trance. On the contrary, she seemed to grow even more intense in her attempt to read me. Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes while nothing happened, and the clock ticked closer to the big celebration.

“I… I am sorry,” she finally said, pushing the money back toward me after letting go of my hand. “I can’t do it.”

“What? Why?” Sophie asked suddenly. Monique looked at her, then back at me.

“Is it one of the topics?” I asked, thinking of the magic.

“No, no. That’s not it,” she said, then looked at me with scared eyes. Her lip trembled.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I’ve never in my life seen nothing. It’s completely blank—as if your fate has not been written at all.” I laughed.

“Does that mean I will die very soon?” I asked, disillusioned. She was probably using some trick of perception or gathering information, and my additional brains had interfered with her process somehow. I wasn’t surprised, but it still stung—I had been looking forward to being entertained.

“No,” she replied hastily. “It doesn’t mean that. I mean that you have no destiny at all, and that’s simply not possible.”

“That’s a pretty lame excuse for a lack of imagination,” I said. “You could have come up with something interesting.”

“It wouldn’t have been the truth.”

“Whatever. I hoped it would be fun, and it kind of was—just not in the way I expected. So thank you, Monique.”

“You should not downplay it,” she said. “There is something wrong about you.”

“Yeah, I probably have one mind too many.” I laughed, glancing at my friends, who had already lost interest the moment she played the I can’t see anything card. If anything screamed fraud psychic louder than that, I’d love to know what it was.

I stood up and bowed my head anyway, taking the money off the table.

“That was pretty strange,” Peter said as I joined him.

“You think so? I’m sure she was trying to read me using her domain of magic, but my additional brains threw her off.” I whispered so the others wouldn’t hear. It was easy enough—the music and shouting swallowed most words anyway.

“It’s official now,” Jason said, stepping closer. “You’re cursed. A woman with no destiny. Not long for this world. You should indulge in some physical activities with me while you still can.”

“Please stop this bravado, self-assured caricature you put on for others,” I said flatly. “The only time I actually had feelings for you—whatever they were—was when you showed me there was a softer, more vulnerable side beneath that playboy façade. I chose to believe in that. I thought you knew that. And now you’re right back to the old ways.”

“I—” He swallowed the rest of the sentence.

“Is this you echoing past mistakes?” I continued. “Is that what taking Malik’s domain does to you?” Peter’s attention sharpened, but Jason didn’t answer. “I was supposed to have this conversation later—with Sophie and Nick present—but we can do a prelude now, since I’m already on a roll. Right the very fucking now.”

“Alexa,” Peter hissed.

“Don’t Alexa me.” I turned on him without breaking stride. “He knows exactly what I did for him. How much I was willing to sacrifice. What was lost. And the thanks I got was him calling me a monster. So maybe Jason should hear this instead of you using my name, brother.”

I stressed the last word deliberately. Zoe nearly strangled Peter’s arm as he tried to speak, squeezing the intention right out of him. Reality bless her restraint.

“And now, when he finally has the chance to be real—because I let him be with us—he reverts to this.” I gestured at him. “I am tired of this. So fucking tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Let me say my piece. Don’t cover yourself with veils of apologies you don’t mean. I know change is hard. I’m no stranger to letting toxic relationships overstay their welcome—if any one of them ever was. But I’m better at spotting them now. And what you’re trying to push on me, Jason, is a hedgehog of red flags.” I shook my head. “I am not picking that up. No matter how cute the creature seems. Okay?”

He looked at me, and in the shifting light his eyes seemed to change—from green to brown—before he spoke again.

Had they always been hazel like that?

“I’m tryin’ to stop it,” he said. “But there’s still a strong will for that kind of behavior in… me. Please know I’m fightin’ to be better.”

“Are you okay, man?” Peter asked. “You sound different somehow.”

“I’m cool. It’s just more difficult than I anticipated.” His tone was quieter now. More honest.

“What happened in Malik’s domain? You have one last chance to tell me.” Nick had been waiting for Jason for a day and a half after he came out—waiting outside the Malik’s room—but Jason had only said he couldn’t talk about it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you,” Jason said, averting his gaze. “Even if I wanted to. I simply cannot.”

“I knew it,” I started. “There’s something between you and—”

“What’s going on?” Nick asked as he and Sophie reached us.

“We started the talk,” I said. “I was just saying he’s still connected to the Shattered. That’s why he won’t talk about the Domain.”

“That’s not the reason,” Jason cut in.

His green eyes flared with a sharp, unnatural intensity. His jaw locked.

“Then what is?” Nick asked.

“You’ll all understand in time.” Jason swallowed. “I won’t hurt any of you, you know? I swear it. I’d rather die than see any of you get hurt. You hear me?”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “You’re as selfish as I am. Maybe worse.”

“No,” he said sharply. “I’m not, Alexa. And neither are you. You’re a hero. You saved me. We’re even now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I said too much already.” He took a step back. “I’m sorry. I’ll find you guys later. I know the address.”

And then he ran.

“Jason—wait!” Peter shouted, already moving after him.

He barely made three steps before slamming headfirst into something solid—a figure made entirely of shadowlight. Its body warped the air around it, edges outlined in gold, purple, and blue. Peter bounced back and hit the ground hard. Strangely it didn’t look like a Jason, but like the man he just passed.

“Oh, fuck,” I said, as I looked at that, then at Nick, whose muscles tensed. We nodded to each other and went into the crowd as well, Nick stopping only for a brief second to give Peter a hand and help him get up.

I broke into a mass of thousands of bodies packed together shoulder to shoulder, breath steaming in the cold night air, music thundering so hard it felt like it was punching straight through my ribs.

French rap blasted from massive speakers near the stage—lyrics spilling over the mass of people who jumped, swayed, screamed, and sang along. Lights strobed in violent colors, washing the iron lattice of the tower in red, blue, white, and gold.

I thought that I saw him for half a second, and then he was gone again, swallowed by coats, scarves, raised arms, and flags. Him running away like that could mean trouble I didn’t want and certainly didn’t need right now.

“Right side!” Nick’s voice snapped in my ear with focused sharpness. He was somewhere behind me, taller than most, scanning above the crowd.

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“I see him—no, I lost him!” Peter shouted from my left, pushing people aside with apologetic phrases he’d learned for our trip.

I didn’t slow down.

I ran.

People cursed when I shoved past them, drinks sloshing, boots stepped on, but the music was too loud for real anger to stick. Bodies bounced against mine, sweat and perfume and cold air mixing into something dizzying. My heart sped up to match my tempo.

I flipped my hands up above me as I ran.

My painted nails, each one marked with a tiny hazel eye—they blinked open at my will, pupils dilating, vision splitting and layering. The world fractured into angles and motion—shoulders shifting, gaps opening and closing, the flow of the crowd bending like a river around rocks.

“There!” I yelled. “Near the center—moving fast!”

I didn’t even look back to check if they would follow. I trusted both of those men. They’d do everything they could to help.

I reached into my Domain with my will and summoned my belt with a spellbook attached to it. I reached into a holder and flicked cards into the air with practiced ease. They spun upward, steel edges flashing under the lights, each one painted with a detailed eye in the center. For a heartbeat they hovered, fluttering like startled birds.

Be my eyes.

I gave them just a whisper of Authority.

They snapped wide open.

I loved that new ability of my magic. That power to animate stuff. It made it all so much better.

Vision flooded back into me. Not just from my nails now, but from above, from everywhere. The cards saw bodies from impossible angles: faces flushed with alcohol and joy, mouths shouting lyrics, couples kissing, hands raised in time with the beat. And then—

Jason.

He was pushing hard toward the far edge of the crowd, head down, jaw clenched, moving with desperation. He glanced back once, surprise flashing across his face when he realized he’d been spotted.

My breath tore out of me in a laugh.

“Got you.”

I stripped the cards of Authority just before gravity claimed them. The steel weight vanished, leaving them as harmless paper again as they rained down, brushing coats and hats instead of cracking skulls. Someone laughed and grabbed one, waving it like a souvenir. I blinked for him, sending a shudder of panic and awe into his mind, and stripped them of the rest of the Authority completely.

I barreled forward.

Nick cleared space ahead of me, sheer presence doing half the work. Peter darted sideways, flanking and cutting Jason off from doubling back. We moved like we’d practiced this a hundred times, even though we hadn’t. Even though this was chaos.

The music shifted to a harder beat and faster tempo, and the crowd surged with it, bodies jumping in unison. Someone grabbed my arm, thinking I was dancing, and I tore free without stopping.

Jason was close now. Too close to lose again.

This chase would end with him being captured by me this time.

He shoved through a cluster of dancers, knocking someone over. I leapt the fallen body, boots skidding on wet pavement. The smell of spilled beer and cold metal filled my nose as we broke free of the densest part of the crowd.

The sound dropped suddenly, muffled behind us, replaced by the rush of the Seine and distant cheers echoing off stone.

The bridge loomed ahead.

Jason stumbled near the edge of the crowd, momentum finally breaking as open space replaced bodies. He turned just as I reached him, eyes wide and chest heaving.

We had him right there, under the cold Paris sky, lights flickering, music still pounding behind us—but he was trapped at the edge now, nowhere left to go.

“Why did you run, Jason?” Peter asked as he moved closer to the man. He at least had the decency to admit that he was defeated and stop running. “I vouched for you, man.”

“Pete. It’s complicated, and it might end up badly for me.”

“For you?” Nickolas asked, when I just looked at him. His phone was buzzing.

“Yes. Me. I want to be close to all of you, but if you keep probing, I will be the one that gets hurt badly, so please, if you can, just let it go this time.” Jason kept on saying, while Nickolas picked up his phone. Sophie’s name and her face were on the screen, along with the hour: 23:55.

“Soph? What’s up?” he asked, standing right next to me, as he answered the call. There was a brief pause as we all waited patiently for him to finish listening.

“We’ll be there, Soph.” He said and put the phone back into his pocket.

“Jason. Whatever it is that you’re going through, we don’t feel comfortable about it. I personally feel threatened by your presence after you told me that we won’t speak about what happened in Malik’s Domain. I saw what became of it later on, so don’t blame me for worrying.” Jason wanted to say something, but Nickolas raised a finger, signaling that it wasn’t the time. “But running away is not going to fix it. If you say that it’s because of your own safety, then I will give you the courtesy of dropping the topic until you are ready to talk. I do have personal advice, though: stop acting like you’re a snake slithering around, ready to strike or hide away at the first opportunity—it doesn’t earn you many sympathy points. And yes, I could see it. So can probably everybody else, as I am not the best person at spotting these things.”

“But you are keeping an eye on me,” he said.

“Yes, I am, and will continue to do so. Doesn’t mean that I want to hurt you.”

“And Peter promised that if you decided to go ballistic on any of us, he would be the one to put you down, so you better keep his conscience clear, you got that?” I added, prompting Jason to look toward Peter with open surprise.

“And one important thing, Jason—but it concerns everyone here.” Nickolas kept talking. “My dear Soph called and pointed out that we have around four minutes left to the New Year, and she’d like to spend it with all of her friends—dancing and having fun. Can we not fuck this up for her?” Nickolas finished, with a swear. It rarely happened for him, so it hit hard.

“Can we even make it there in four minutes?” Peter asked, and all of them looked to me for an answer.

“Peter, don’t you prefer to walk there?”

“It’s not the time for jokes, Alexa. The clock is ticking.”

“As far as I know, it never stops, brother. Why does it bother you now?” I teased him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Alexa. This is why being with you is so damn difficult.” Jason interrupted. “For someone who deals with the shadiest of things, you certainly like to be put in the spotlight too.”

“You are… surprisingly right.” I responded, while motioning with a waving hand for all of them to come closer to me. “Don’t ever run away like that again.” I spoke to Jason as they grabbed each other’s shoulders, making a small circle. One of Peter’s hands grabbed mine as well.

I focused on the Eiffel Tower above us­—a clear work of art—and soon my Authority settled within it, confirming it for the world of magic as well. I reached for that connection, that invisible thread that instantly spun between me and this metallic construction, and within my aura and my sense of its shape I chose a point. The world bent back over to make damn sure we would appear exactly in that point, on the first floor of the Eiffel Tower. The crowd holding glasses of champagne froze around us, but there was no time to react. Midnight was coming. We had to reach Sophie and Zoe.

“Move!” I shouted, keeping the Shadowlight tether connected to the cards they carried. The tether pulled me forward, guiding every step. I just had to get close enough to them to make another jump.

Peter sprinted ahead, dodging people in his path, shoving through those who froze in surprise. Nick moved close behind, twisting and pivoting around bystanders. Jason followed, keeping up despite the chaos, narrowly avoiding bumping into anyone carrying trays or drinks.

I focused on keeping us together, pulling the group in the direction my aura pointed. The crowd pressed against us from every side. People stumbled, glasses toppled, and the noise of the celebration pounded in our ears.

We pushed harder. Every second counted. Midnight was less than a minute away. The tether guided us closer to Sophie and Zoe, and my aura stretched to meet them.

We crashed through the last cluster of tourists, ignoring protests and spilled champagne. Every step, every shove, every desperate leap brought us closer to the boundary of my aura.

“That’s far enough,” I said, stopping the group. Around us, the countdown was starting, people shouting the decreasing numbers into the air with intensity. And despite the protests of the people around us, who didn’t understand why we were here, I asked the world once again to listen to my whims and brought all four of us amidst our friends, to a card Sophie was always carrying.

“Six!” they shouted, when Sophie got grabbed around the shoulders by Nickolas. She grinned at him, then looked back toward us to check if we also made it. She smiled when she noticed me, Peter, and Jason being there. Okay—she smiled for me and Peter, and had a little more concern for Jason, but who could have blamed her?

“Five!” they continued, as Zoe threw herself at Peter, giving him a kiss.

“Four!” I joined in the chorus of voices.

“Three!” So did Jason, as he moved toward Evan and Hannah.

“Two!” I noticed that Elena and Tyler were cuddled together and looked happy.

“One!” I shouted, trying to outdo myself and everyone else around, but Peaches’s voice was the loudest of all.

And as the last second passed and the New Year came, the sky cracked with the light of hundreds of fireworks. It was beautiful, magnificent and certainly breathtaking.

We jumped, we cheered, and we danced, joining the rhythm forced upon us by the crowd. Music led us like a puppeteer pulling the strings, ordering a strong, quick tempo that the girls liked so much. I weaved in between everybody, seeing Peter consciously let Zoe move away from him to be closer to the girls. I watched Nickolas move awkwardly, desynchronized from the music. I saw Evan trying his best to gain Pam’s attention, until I stopped watching and focused on my own movements for once—letting my body be my guide and shutting my minds off.

I lasted in that state for quite a while, and it was good to be fast and to be just another body in the sea of hundreds.

The last of the fireworks were still dissolving into smoke when the music shifted into something softer, as this rhythmic master demanded we change along. People reacted in two obvious ways—some drifted apart, not seeking the intimacy, while others reveled in it, as they naturally drew closer to each other. Laughter turned into murmurs and low singing.

I was about to step back, following the first group, to say something clever and deflect the moment, when Jason reached for my hand.

I took it.

Maybe it would turn badly, or maybe it was a peace offering. Or an apology.

At that moment I didn’t really care. I wasn’t seeking the warmth of another person, but when it found me, I intended to let the wave carry me, no matter if I’d be washed ashore renewed or thrown into the sea.

His other hand settled at my back, where he placed it carefully and slowly. It was as if he expected me to vanish if he pressed too firmly. I rested mine on his shoulder and let him lead.

The iron lattice of the tower rose above us. Lights shimmered along its ribs, reflecting in the leftover haze from the fireworks. The air smelled like smoke, champagne, and cold winter metal. Somewhere nearby, someone’s portable speaker picked up the same slow song that rolled from the main stage, slightly out of sync, creating a soft echo.

I liked it. It felt nice to let myself be lost in the moment.

And just like that we swayed to the rhythm.

“Not saying anything this time?” I asked, watching the knot of his scarf instead of his eyes at first.

“I already spoke and done way too much tonight. I ain’t got the slightest intention of repeatin’ that again.”

“Okay,” I whispered, and we made a slow turn with the movement of the people around us, just another pair orbiting the center of the night. The earlier tension, the running, the sharp words—all of it felt pushed a little farther away, like it belonged to last year now. Technically true, which I appreciated.

When I finally looked up, the tower lights caught in his eyes and shifted their color—green to brown to gold, depending on the angle. I wondered—not for the first time—how much of him was changing or already had, and how much had always been like this beneath the noise he liked to create around himself.

He wasn’t smiling. His mouth was a flat line, with just a little twitch at one of the corners.

His thumb made a small circle between my shoulder blades, in time with the music. My minds, usually a crowded room of moving parts, went briefly still. No Domains. No Authority. No hidden threats in reflections or shadows. Just breath, warmth, and motion.

Around us, couples kissed, cheered again, took photos with the glowing tower behind them. Someone started counting down from ten for no reason at all, and a dozen drunk voices joined in, laughing by the time they reached three.

“I’m trying,” he said, so quietly I almost missed it. “Even when it looks like I’m not.”

“I know,” I replied, and to my own surprise, I meant it in that moment. Maybe because he voiced my thoughts too.

We turned once more beneath the tower, under fading smoke and falling sparks of leftover light, and for the length of one slow song, nothing required chasing and nothing demanded blood or miracles.

We just danced into the loud night, in which my minds went quiet for once.

I didn’t know this yet at that point, but it was also then that—separated by a thin veil between worlds—in Ideworld, not far from where we were, in the catacombs twisted by dreams and fears of people, a god that was once a man was dying.