Chapter III

Dim, gray sunlight pooled in through the open curtains, laying out a monotone carpet across the bedroom. There was a piece of dust. It passed through the light, just barely, but it was quick enough to snatch her attention from right under her. Following the thief, her gaze cannot help but derail as a light blue butterfly lands on the windowsill, just on the other side of the glass. She thought it peculiar, a butterfly landing in such a place. Bare, painted stone. Not a flower in sight. For what reason would it land in a place that goes against its very survival? Was it compelled, maybe? Did it have a choice, truly? Does it even know the futility of its decision? Or will it be yet another fleeting memory once it flies off? How lucky it is, she thought, to forget so quickly; to leave your worries in the wind. 

“What do you think?” Alvarez’s  bass voice grabs Jess’ attention. Right in the midst of getting dressed, his plain, but quizzically long, gray buttoned shirt covers his seemingly otherwise bare lower half. In each hand he holds a tie, both similar shades of gray. He shakes them to grab Jess’ attention once more as she takes her time pondering the answer. 

“The… left one.” Her eyes dart from one tie to the other as she spews out her answer; it comes out sounding more of a question itself.

Alvarez drops his arms with a sigh. “You can’t tell the difference.”

“Of course I can tell the difference, Al.” She quickly deflects. “Women have a sixth sense for this stuff.”

“Alright. Which one is lighter?” He holds the ties up again. 

Jessica quickly studies the two ties once more. With a slight hesitation, she speaks. “The left one?” 

Turning his hands around to inspect the ties himself, Alvarez rolls his eyes as he confirms. “Lucky guess.” He tosses the tie in his right hand back into the walk in closet from which he emerged and promptly retreats back into.

“Pretty sure you got more than one color in there.” Jessica speaks loudly to be heard within the closet.

“We’re not allowed to wear colors during Die Exsiilux.” Al’s disembodied voice responds. 

The raw unfamiliarity of the sounds and syllables stunned her so as to allow a moment, just one moment, to slip past her. “Oh. Right. Yeah, ‘course.” Another moment, this one is allowed to pass in peace. “Hey, follow up question. The fuck is that?”

Alvarez reemerges from the closet tucking his shirt into his newly acquired pants, with the tie tossed around his neck. The look on his face is quizzical. “I’ve never told you about Die Exsiilux?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Huh. Well, I guess that makes sense. I haven’t celebrated in a long time. Even longer for this traditional celebration. Do you want the long explanation or the short one?”

“Do I have to attend this as well?”

“Family only.”

“Short, please.” She says, snatching back those moments that ran away; one she tosses Alvarez’s way, the other she gives to the butterfly. Why does it stay, she wonders. What could possibly be offered that is worth sacrificing that which it needs most?

“My sister knows the full story way better than I do anyway.” He begins fidgeting with his tie. “From what I recall, it’s the day Magic was revoked from the world as a Law and forced to walk as an exile, among a world that would always hate it. Magic, restricted to the form of the people, had been stripped of its name and purpose. Instead, the denizens dubbed it the old word for “devil”. As time passed, so too did it come to know itself as that. Eventually, way way later, more and more exiles of the land would seek refuge with it. Over time, magic would imprint itself unto this first group and they would become the first magic users. After that, it stops being myth and more actual history, but that’s basically it. Although the day is a celebration of unity and our origin, it’s also a day of mourning for Magic. Such is represented by the lack of color. We’re also technically not supposed to use any spells, but no one really follows that. Take all that with a grain of salt, by the way. Like I said, I don’t really celebrate.”

“So why you going this year?” Even from being turned away, Jessica sensed how much the question had disturbed him.

“The Grand Scholar-Caster has requested all family members be present this year.”

“Your dad?” Before the question had ended, she had already swiveled herself to fully face him. Faster still was her transition from tired, expressionless eyes to a beaming gaze of intrigue.

“The family patriarch and leader of Terra Magica. Yes, him.”

“Been a while since you visited.”

Al tosses his head back with a groan. “It’s not a visit, Jess.” He brings his head back down as he finishes with his tie. “It’s a mandated family gathering. We literally don’t have a choice, father will just teleport us anyway.”

“So, the whole family is gonna be there?” A gust of tense silence followed the question. They stay still as statues as it breezes past them. “Even your sist--”

“I’m heading to the Oasis before the time of the gathering to visit her. No doubt father has long since erased her name from the teleport rune, but perhaps I could convince her to let me take her with me.”

“Why?” A question more quick and sharp couldn’t be forged anywhere but the spiteful fires that dwell within Jess.

“She’s more magic than the whole country combined.” He makes his way to a large vanity to inspect himself, all the while feeling the rising heat of Jessica’s wrathful gaze bore holes into him. “She deserves to celebrate today.”

“She deserves to rot in the Oasis.”

“Jessica!” Alvarez raises his voice as he faces her.

“She’s psychotic, Al! A fucking murderer!”

“She is my sister!” The curtains ruffle from the mere volume of his shout. Though subtle, Alvarez noticed Jessica recoil as well. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he sighs. “As abhorrent as her deeds are, her final judgment is to be dictated by the Grand Scholar-Caster. The least I could do as a brother is have her celebrate one last holiday with her family.”

“A family that hates her.”

“Jessica, that’s enough!” Seeing Jessica flinch at his voice again causes Al to take a long, deep breath. “I have to go.” Before even completing the sentence, he had already rushed towards the door. 

Jessica lowers her head in familiar disappointment. “Of course you do.” She mutters under her breath. “What was its name, by the way?” She shouts out when she hears Al grab the doorknob. 

“What?”

“The new name they gave Magic. The word for “devil”. What was it?”

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“Miss LaSatanna!” A guttural, near bestial, growl of a voice shakes the very foundation of the Oasis. The booming voice is accompanied with heavy, earth shaking footsteps. The old, handmade wooden tables and chairs bounce and splinter in rhythm with each tremor caused by the behemoth that stomps across the establishment; yet picks up any that should fall over. The dim, low hanging chandeliers swing violently as the giant beelines pass them; yet clearly making movements as to purposely avoid running into them. The intensity of the march wanes everytime the goliath slows his pace to not stress the ancient support beams scattered around the room.

Directly at the end of his path is a massive wooden ring bar with tall, circular shelves stocked with bottles of various clear and colorful spirits. Wildly out of place, this modern centerpiece shines from underneath as a beacon in the dimly lit ancient dining area surrounding it. People behind the bar scramble to prevent the numerous glasses and bottles from falling. The black and white motif of their undershirt-suit vest uniform paints a rorschach amongst the kaleidoscope from the glint of the liquor bottles.

In the center of the shifting inkblot of bartenders, one woman turns around upon mention of her name. The blonde tips of her long, dark ponytail flow into a golden half circle as she spins. Each step the goliath takes causes her to crane her neck ever more upward in order to meet his gaze. Once the mass of muscle, garbed in an extremely tight fitting, yet formal, suit and tie, reaches the bar, the tremors stop. Not only did the towering figure encapsulate the entire bar staff in shadow, his height far surpasses that of the low hanging lights, cloaking everything above his chest in shadow. Only the fire of his scornful gaze made it through the dark shadows of the roof. The woman remains unfazed, however, and merely points at a nearby clock.

“We’re on time, Georgie.” Xerena accompanies the words with a vain smirk.

“Barely.” The bottles clinked slightly as the low frequency of his voice passed through them, followed by a wave of shivers as it reverberated through the bones of each bartender under his shadow. “And I don’t see the other guy.”

“Right here, boss.” The familiar monotone, yet smug, tone climbs its way to Georgie’s ears. Diego stands behind Georgie, in a uniform much alike those of Xerena and the other bartenders. The only difference lies in his right sleeve, which has seemingly been torn off so as to allow his newfound, unorthodox accessory to pass through. 

Georgie shifted ever so slightly to meet his gaze with Diego’s. Upon witnessing the state of the uniform, he sharply inhales. “Do I even want to ask?”

Diego takes a moment to inspect himself before looking back up at Georgie. “I wouldn’t.”

Georgie makes a noise that starts as what sounds like a sigh but then quickly transitions into a low bellow of sorts.  “Just get to your stations. We have a special guest coming.”

“Oh yeah, must be super special to come to this hole in the wall.” Xerena sarcastically calls out, inducing a faint ripple of giggles from behind her. 

“Kilquen is paying us a visit.” Georgie’s mention of the name brought everything to a grinding halt. Almost immediately, suffocating silence fills the space.

“The warden?!” Some voices shout out from the blob of bartenders. 

“The very one. So I need all of you to be on your best behaviors.” Georgie addresses all present, but his gaze remains on Xerena. “That means no frost runes to chill the glasses. We need him to think those inhibitors actually do something.”

Xerena raises both hands. “Can’t use magic today anyways. Holiday.”

Georgie stares at her while giving a quick snort. “You’re lucky you’re good at your job.” He turns around and places one of his gargantuan fingers on Diego’s shoulder. “You lay low.” He taps his finger twice, nearly bringing Diego down with each one. “Please.” As he takes his leave, the tremors of his footfalls shake all the bottles and glasses and the bartenders once more rearrange themselves to keep them from falling. 

“I thought they upped your inhibs.” Diego says as he lifts a piece of the counter to his way behind the bar. 

“Please, they could give me a thousand times what they’re giving me now and it still wouldn’t do shit.” She eyes the vine wrapped around his arm. “Don’t think Kilquen will appreciate you ripping up his uniforms, though.” 

“As if Kilquen has ever appreciated anything I do.” Diego turns his back to her to open a drawer under the centerpiece that the numerous bottles rest on; he pulls out a clipboard with some papers. 

Xerena glares at his vine while he is turned away. She intensely scans it with her eyes and furrows her brow in unease. She quickly morphs her face into a smile when he turns around. “Come on, he likes you.”

“He tolerates me. Not the same thing.” He pulls out a pen from his pocket. “And that’s only because he likes you.” He points at her with his pen before walking away and begins counting all the merchandise while checking things off or writing small notes on his clipboard. 

“You just gotta get on his good side.” Xerena hesitantly follows him; she stares once more at the vine. “I thought you could charm anyone.” 

“It’s not about charming him or whether or not I can. If he has a good side, he’s never shown it to me and he doesn’t plan to. He just despises me on a physiological level. It’s not who I am, it’s what I am. ‘Scuse me.” He addresses Xerena, who is glaring at him with wide eyes shaking with bewilderment. She is leaning forward on top of small, covered wells of various fruit slices and other garnishes. 

Xerena breaks her trance of puzzled excitement and anxiety, and notices what she is leaning on. She turns around and takes a seat on the bar instead, completely blocking Diego from counting the contents within. When Diego slumps his shoulders and sighs, she tilts her head and smiles playfully at him. She turns stiff and lets out a small yelp when his hands firmly grasp her waist, easily lifting her from the spot and placing her down nearby. She pouts. “All work, no play, huh Jack?”

“If this is another obscure foreign movie reference,” Diego begins explaining as he counts the fruits and other contents of the well, “I don’t get it.”

“No way! You’ve never seen— alright, we’re adding it to the Halloween list.”

“It’s gonna take us longer than just Halloween to finish the list if you keep adding to it.” He stands straight and points to the hatch under Xerena’s feet. “You checked the kitchen downstairs?”

“Yeah, we’re good on stuff.”

“Warden’s visiting, Xe.”

“I’m serious! I checked while you were changing. We got a big order while you were out yesterday. We’re still going through it.” 

“Alright.” Diego writes in the papers on the clipboard. “I trust you.”

“Now there’s a first.”

“Oh, come on.” He places the clipboard on an empty shelf under the bar. “I’ve been trusting you for ten years.”

“Seven. We were lone wolves for a while when we met, remember.”

“Okay well, the point still stands.” As he speaks, his arms instinctively reach for a highball glass and bottles of vodka and juices and begin building a drink. “Trust is what’s kept us alive all these years.” 

“And yet isn’t trust what got us stuck in the Oasis in the first place? Or lack thereof, more like?”

“Xe please,” He garnishes the drink with an orange slice and gently slides the vibrant orange cocktail across the bar. “That was a one time thing. Besides, our sentences are nearly…” As his voice trails off, he notices the prepared drink sitting between them; a puzzled look grows on his face. “…done. Did… you order that?” He asks Xerena while pointing at the drink. 

“Ew, a Sex on the Beach? Have you met me?”

“Unfortunately.”

Dark, slim fingers gingerly clasp around the glass and lift it into the air. The rim of the glass meets a set of full, plump lips that leave their mark on the glass as the drink flows through. They curl into a satisfied smile as the drink is placed back down; the other hand moves a portion of her thick, curly, bright red mane away from her face so that her sapphire eyes can meet those of her favorite bartenders. “You still make it how I like it.” The voice that comes out is raspy and deep, and abundantly sultry. 

Everyone in the vicinity shifts their attention to her. They feel the heat rising from within them as their hearts flutter and their blood rushes through them; a combined result of simply being in the presence of such a beguiling figure and not being addressed by said figure. The sensation was exhilarating. Yet, as alluring and tempting as she was, in the back of everyone’s mind, there was a silent unanimous consensus: this woman had business with Diego and Xerena, and to interrupt would be devastating. 

“Um,” Diego stumbles with his words, face getting redder by the second. Even he was not immune to the winsome looks of the woman in front of him. “Sorry ma’am, we’re not open yet—”

“Do we know you?” Xerena interrupts, slamming a hand down on the bar as she shoves Diego behind her. Her cheeks were not flushed, nor was her demeanor at all indicative of having fallen prey to the charm that permeates the room. 

“Aw, you’ve lost none of your charm, Xe. Don’t tell me you of all people forgot about little ol’ me?” She moves so that only one side of her face is showing and moves the ever flowing sea of hair out of the way. The smooth dark skin on her sculpted cheek tears itself an opening from which another cobalt eye surfaces and looks at them. It winks once before sinking back into the rip it came from. The skin closes back up and mends itself perfectly; no seam or scar in sight. 

The redness in Diego’s face disappears as quickly as it came as he watches the demonstration. He quickly becomes unamused and rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh. “Liv.”

“Liv!” Xerena excitedly hops over the bar and easily lifts the short stature woman into the air for a hug. The sequins of Liv’s skintight dress reflect the already beaming ground lights of the bar. “Oh you’re much lighter now.” Upon setting her down, her eyes begin inspecting. “And shorter.”

“Among many other differences, yes. I’ve missed you too, Xerena.”

“D, look!” Xerena exaggeratedly waves her hand to catch his attention. “Liv’s back!”

“I saw.” Diego responds, monotone and unamused. “You’re alone?”

“Well,” Liv responds, leaning on the bar with her chin resting in her palm. “Depends what you mean by ‘alone’. I always have someone to spend the night with.” Her playful giggles and sly smiles quickly die down as she notices Diego’s stern, unwavering expression. “Man, who sucked the fun outta you? Corvix isn’t with me, if that’s what you’re so concerned about.”

“Then what do you want?” He quickly snaps back. 

Liv is taken aback by the attitude presented to her. She leans toward Xerena. “He’s so mean now.”

Xerena leans in closer and whispers something into her ear. As she speaks, Liv’s eyes drift over to the vine of thorns and her face grows harder, colder, and more and more puzzled; until she is staring at Diego with absolute unfamiliarity. 

“What did you do?” Liv spits the question of her scowl. Upon receiving silence as her answer, she swiftly storms out of the establishment. 

“Wow.” Xerena breaks the silence. “That played out a lot differently in my head.”

“What the hell did you tell her, Xe?”

“Nothing! Just that something’s been up with you today.”

Diego scoffs. “What’s ‘up with me’?” He repeats her phrase in a far more annoyed tone. 

“You’re different.”

“Meaning WHAT, Xe?!” He raises his voice. 

“I don’t know!” She raises her voice back. “Woah.” Her face shifts to a more negative range of emotion; a blend of sad and offended. “Don’t yell at me, dude. Chill out.”

Diego nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“That’s also different, you never do that.”

“What? Apologize?”

“No. Well, I mean, yeah, but no. I meant shouting.” 

“We have shouted at each other so many times, come on.” 

“But not like you just did. That was different. It’s like you’re… getting upset.”

Diego chuckles as he rolls his eyes and whole head. “Getting upset. Because that’s such a bad thing?”

“Not what I said. You know you’re always allowed to get upset. You just don’t.”

“I said I was trying something new.”

“And that’s fine.” She approaches him. “But every time I’ve looked at you today… I don’t want to say it’s like you’re a different person,” Her hand traces along his arm and the vine that ensnares it. “because I recognize you. I remember you. It’s more like…” She brings her face close to his. “You’re trying to hide a part of yourself. Or maybe this is the part you were always hiding.” Her hand hovers above his body as it moves up, like a snake that hangs off a tree branch while stalking prey, until her fingers reach his temple.

The rune she drew at just barely a single layer of air from his head wasn't what gave her away. That rune is simple, quick; two circles conjoined with a line. She had memorized this one from spying on the iumilex conduct their interrogations. And she spied on them a lot, and cast this spell undetected a lot, so she became utterly baffled when it only took half a second, maybe half of that, of the rune's glow for him to catch her.

"Holiday, huh?" Those are the only words that come out of his mouth.

Those are the only words necessary to open the bottomless sinkhole Xerena's heart just plunged into. Not in panic of getting caught, but in unadulterated disappointment in herself for not finishing the spell.

“EVERYONE TO YOUR STATIONS! WE OPEN IN TEN!” Georgie’s boorish voice rattles the eardrums of every person present in the building. 

In the time it took Xerena to flinch and cover her ears, Diego had disappeared entirely.

        ------------------------------------------------------Ch3 End----------------------------------------------------