[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

Lucien considers, trying to imagine where in the theatre someone could hide a still-beating human heart.  “I’ll check the box seats,” he says finally. “I was up in one just earlier so I might as well be the one to go back there. There’s a number of places someone might tuck something, and they’re unoccupied except for the Lords usually, so it seems like a likely place.”

“I’ll take the remaining offices,” Katarin says, grinning, her bearing confident. “I’ve got a trick up my sleeve for the office locks.”

Lucien raises his brows at her. “One you didn’t have for the outside door?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen where the SM keeps the interior spare keys,” Katarin says. “But obviously that’s private info, so I wasn’t planning to show you fools if I could just use them myself”

Shuni purses his lips, visibly discontent, but lets it go. “Fine. You get the offices. I guess that leaves me… ugh…”

“Props and wardrobe,” Lucien says firmly. “Which is a great place to hide… just about anything, you know? No matter how weird it is.” More gently, he adds, “…I don’t think we need to check the fly gallery. Those are always busy during shows and are full of moving parts and crew working the lines, so I think it’d be too risky a place to hide anything.”

Surprised, Shuni glances over and searches his face—then smiles an odd smile, tentative and unpracticed. “I’m glad to hear that,” he admits. “It gives me an excuse to back out. I don’t have a lot of fears left after all that, but I’m still bad with heights. Katarin, will you unlock P&W for me?”

“Of course,” she says. “What you lost wasn’t a file or anything like that, right? The offices’ll go a lot faster if I know that much.”

“No paperwork at all, no book, nothing like that. It’s an… an odd object.”

They turn to go, still chatting, and Lucien grabs Shuni’s arm. “One moment.”

“Lucien?” Shuni turns back—and stiffens, as Lucien wraps him in a tight hug.

“I was worried,” Lucien murmurs, keeping the hug firm. “I’m just glad we found you safely.”

Shuni doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, uncomfortable, though he slowly relaxes enough to put his arms around Lucien in return and pat his back. “Again, you were the one in trouble,” Shuni murmurs back. “Don’t worry us like that.”

He pulls back finally, and studiously does not meet Katarin’s surprised gaze as he turns back to her. “I’m heading to P&W,” he says. “Meet me there with the keys.”

Lucien watches him go, reluctant to let Shuni out of his sight, and a little embarrassed by the depth of his own feelings. He shakes it off—he’s promised to help search, after all—and heads to the front of house, toward those stairs up for the second time in what feels like as many days.

About halfway up, he curses himself—he’d forgotten to tell Katarin to meet him there with the keys. Well, she’ll likely think of it herself after she’s let Shuni in, and if not, maybe he can use one of the door cards to jimmy the lock.

Once he’s got the idea in his head, he’s not easily getting it out, so when he reaches the top of the stairs, he goes right to the card basket, swiping the top card off to try the first door—but when he turns, he sees that all four doors are cracked very slightly open.

He feels the hair rise on his arms as a chill passes through him. Perhaps someone had left them unlocked after the show today? But he remembers looking back at the doors when he left this morning after waking up from the Moonlit Lord’s dreams, and he doesn’t remember them being open.

And hadn’t Shuni said they were locked? Or had he just said he hadn’t got to them yet? Lucien wishes he could remember.

Well, perhaps it’s nothing. Perhaps he was just misremembering their state when he left this morning. He goes to put the card he’d picked up back in the pile, and looks down to see that it’s a blank white.

That gives him pause yet again. Slowly, he flips through each of the cards, looking at their icons, checking both sides to be sure. 

There are fourteen in total: one for each of the Lords with matching icons, the white card he has just picked up, and the black card he’d seen on the door for the unoccupied box seat.

He slowly stacks them again, trying to make sense of it. The twelve iconographic cards make sense, but what do the remaining two mean? He’d assumed originally that the black card was the ‘blank’ to indicate the room was empty, but that would make a lot more sense for the white card. If he had to hazard a guess, looking at all the options, he’d think that black meant unknown or, perhaps, reserved.

But that box had definitely been empty during the performance. He’d looked up at it. Why not use the ‘unoccupied’ card?

Sliding the pile of cards back into their basket, Lucien worries at his lower lip. There are never more than four box seats made available in a playhouse, because any more than four lords in one location at a time tend to destabilize the crowd around them to the point that a play would need to be cancelled. There are rules about it—even though Lucien’s never heard of even as many as three at once showing up to a play before now. 

As each shows up, the door is marked off to ensure that it is known how many Lords are currently in the theatre, avoiding having a hazardous buildup of their influence. Why mark off a box that didn’t have a Lord in it?

There must be a reason he’s just not thinking of. Perhaps it’s just a safety measure; just avoiding the risk of ever having more than three. The fact that exactly three Lords keep showing up is likely just a strange coincidence; three is a powerful number, after all, and this is meant to be a powerful play. 

One way or another, he’s sure this mystery has nothing to do with the problem in front of him: Finding Shuni’s missing heart.

He enters the first box seat.

It’s odd to be in here in the middle of the day with no play on. He keeps thinking he sees someone standing in the middle of the stage out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns to look, there’s nobody there. Just his own discomfort with being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He checks the coat cubby, and the drinks tray, and under the bench, and in the glove box, and all around, and there is nothing there at all, let alone a beating heart. It is silent but for the labored sound of his own breathing and the rustling as he searches around.

The second is the same, and the third, and—though it takes him a few moments to build up his courage to enter it—so is the fourth, the boxed seat that has been left empty all these performances and has been marked with the black card. He’d thought there’d be at least something in that one, heart or not, but it’s as empty as all the others.

He jumps as he hears a voice call out—but it’s just Katarin leaning into the narrow hallway outside the box seats. “Any luck?”

Lucien is more than glad to step back in there with her. “None at all,” he says. “You?”

“Nothing in any of the offices I could get into. Just paperwork, scripts, etc etc,” she says. “Unless Shuni’s lost a pair of the ASM’s slippers, I didn’t see anything there that I’d classify as a missing object.”

He laughs, relaxing. “No, it’s not that. But which office couldn’t you get into?”

“About that,” she says, a deep consideration in her voice, “it was the Director’s office. The key fit, but there’s an additional magic lock over it, a visible sigil. The key wouldn’t even turn.”

That’s weird. He doesn’t need to say it; it’s on his face, and hers. His brows crease. “I haven’t seen a sigil on his door before.”

“Neither have I, but we’re not usually here after hours,” she says. “It’s possible he has extra protection during the day after everyone’s left. But I don’t like it, especially since we still haven’t turned up any sign of who set up the ritual.” She lifts a finger. “That said, I have a thought about how I could get to search it during show time, if you’re amenable.”

“Who’s being amenable about what?” Shuni calls from the stairs up. He doesn’t sound particularly triumphant, and Lucien assumes he wasn’t successful either.

Katarin says, “Lucien, as far as everyone except Shuni and I know, you’re still missing. The Director is usually out of office during a show, watching the performance. Your voice is tenor; mine’s alto. We’re near the same size, minus some obvious frame differences, but my dresses are padded as Revelle anyway, and we wear a wig. Could you play Revelle off Shuni and Frederik tonight, while I try to break into the Director’s office?”

[Please leave suggestions for Lucien in the comments.]

[Next Day]

[Previous Day]

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

“If Shuni were home, he’d let me in,” Lucien says. Even as he says it, despite Katarin’s dubious look, he feels utter confidence. “So he’s not home right now, or is too deeply asleep to hear me.”

After all, Shuni had been concerned for him when he got back from Lord Crow. And Shuni had understood when he’d needed to go see the Moonlit Lord. Even if Shuni’s feeling sore about it, Lucien doesn’t think Shuni would just ignore him. Be sarcastic, acerbic, whatever—but he’d do it to Lucien’s face.

“Well, if you say so,” Katarin says, less convinced. “So you want to go to the theatre?” 

Lucien nods. He can see the reluctance on her face, and says softly, “I know you just got home, and if you can’t come with me, I understand. But if you can come, I’d appreciate the help. Besides, maybe we can find some evidence of whoever’s started this ritual.”

“Fair enough,” she says, sighing. “I need to get sleep sometime before the show, but… well, this is more important than a good performance anyway. Give me a moment to change.”

He nods, and he spends the time trying to put his thoughts in order, albeit without much success. When she comes back in, she’s gone from her nightgown to a pair of trousers and a loose shirt, her hair bound back in a braid. “Well, let’s go break into our workplace,” she says, resigned.

It does get locked after hours from the outside; anyone who stays late can leave, but not come back in until the keyholders unlock the doors. He should be worried that they’ll get caught—but the idea’s exciting, and he grins. “Do you have any skill in that?”

“Not much,” she says. “I mean, maybe I can break it. Guess we’ll find out.” 

They walk back together, and it is strange, surreal, to be out and about in the day. Plenty of others are around, of course; maybe thirty percent of people do have jobs that keep them out through the day. Lucien can’t imagine wanting one himself. The hot and bright eye of the sun stares down at them, and he feels terribly exposed. 

“I hope you dedicated a scene to Sol, to give us blessings at this time,” he murmurs to her.

She grins. “Like the Blazing Sun would smile on things best done in darkness,” she murmurs back. And he knows that they’re really conspirators now.

By silent agreement, they head behind the theatre to enter by the actors’ door, and Katarin jiggles the handle. “Definitely locked,” she mutters. “Do you have-“

And then she freezes, staring past Lucien with an expression of shock. Someone’s behind him. Lucien starts to turn, tensing, but a hand covers his eyes, and the beating of wings fills his ears, and he hears a familiar voice murmuring out of the susurration of those wings, “No, no, let me. And try to get some time alone later, away from your costars. I do so miss you.”

A hand covers his, guiding it to the door,  and the lock clicks. The other hand pulls away from his eyes and he turns for real now, fast, trying to catch a glimpse of Lord Crow—but the flock of birds that takes off, flying out of the alley, reveals no human form.

Katarin’s mouth works a few times. “Was that-?”

“Yes,” Lucien says, his heart beating in his throat.

“I couldn’t quite see him. Did he say anything to you?”

“No,” he lies impulsively. “Just that he could get the door for us. I guess he liked the dedications I’ve given before.”

She looks at him oddly, but doesn’t argue. “Good fortune that the Lord of thievery is smiling on you today,” she says, and gestures at him to open the door, as if she’s a little afraid to touch it herself.

He tugs on the handle, and this time it opens. Lucien slips in, juggling the door behind him so she can slip in too. He’s about to turn to her and speak when he hears a swallowed curse from the first aid room next to the exit. “It’s you two,” Shuni says. “Lord. You gave me a scare, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

Lucien could feel himself light up. “Shuni! There you are. I was worried about you!”

“You were worried about me?” Shuni hisses. He steps out, looking Lucien over. “You look well, given the circumstances,” he drawls.

“She was gentle,” Lucien says. “I’ll explain more later. What are you doing?”

Shuni seems to accept that for now, sighing, letting go of the tension he’d carried with him ever since they’d startled him. “Searching the theatre. Again. I’ve managed to thoroughly check the front of house by now, except the cash room behind the box office. I’ve also searched the trap room and shop area, and pretty much every public space back of house. I haven’t managed to check most of the production offices, wardrobe and props, or the box seats. Their locks are beyond my skill. And I haven’t quite got up the nerve to climb out into the fly gallery.” He jerks his head at Katarin. “What’s she doing here?”

“She came here to help look for you, because Lucien was worried,” Katarin says, with strained patience. “She’ll help you look for whatever you had stolen, too, if you tell her what it is.”

Shuni bites his lower lip. “…We’re running out of time before the run ends. And maybe the world, I guess, if this ritual goes off in the finale. So… sure, if you’ll help, great. If you see something that you definitely do not expect to see here, it’s probably mine. And we can talk about it if you find it.” 

Katarin’s brows lift in exaggerated disbelief. “You’re not going to tell me?”

Waving a hand, Shuni says, “You don’t trust me either. Like I said, if it turns up, we can talk about it then.” He turns back to Lucien. “Are you really in a state to help?”

“I promised you I would,” Lucien says, firmly.

To his surprise, Shuni seems to flush a little. “…Fine. But you did just get back from a run-in with a Lord, so don’t overdo it. Which of these parts of the theatre do you feel ready to handle?”

[Please leave suggestions for Lucien in the comments.]

[Next Day]

[Previous Day]

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

Lucien suspects at once that Katarin has picked up on his deliberate avoidance of what had been stolen from Shuni, but that’s also, essentially, none of her business. Still, he hesitates. Telling her that would be giving away information if it isn’t what she’d meant. “W-what are you asking, Katarin?” he asks, shakily. 

It isn’t hard to pretend to be addled after being told he’s lost three days to the tender care of the Moonlit Lord. He still isn’t even sure if it’s true, though he sees no reason Katarin would lie to him. He adds, “I think I’ve gone over everything I think is related. What information do you still need?”

She’s not going to let this go so easily, though, and frowns at him. “Drink your tea,” she says. It’s a soft chamomile, rather than the bracing black tea he was hoping for, and he doubts she’s added anything hard to it, more’s the pity. But after all, it’s past her bedtime, at least, so the choice is explainable. “What did Shuni have stolen, Lucien?”

He could lie to her and say he doesn’t know, or that Shuni hasn’t told him. But he thinks her trust in him is on shaky ground already. “Katarin, it’s something very personal to him,” he says honestly. “If he’s willing to tell you, that’s one thing, but I can’t in good faith tell you something told to me in confidence. I can promise you that after talking to him, I honestly believe that it has no bearing on the mystery at hand.”

She looks at him for a long moment, then sighs. “Fair enough,” she murmurs. “I only hope you’re right.” 

Lucien sips his tea. “Can I ask you to catch me up about the last few nights, Katarin? It seems almost unbelievable that I missed so much of it.”

“Sure, why not,” she sighs. She sips her own tea, her eyes tired. “Let me think. Play went well, I suppose. Frederik did fine, but he just doesn’t have the heart you do as Arcane. I think he’d do better as Logos, but Shuni and I decided not to suggest that they swap, in case it made the director catch on to the bullshit switch you pulled at one point in there.”

Lucien can’t quite help but make a face. He doesn’t love to think that his role’s done poorly recently, especially if… “Were any Lords present?”

“Oh, were there,” she says dryly. “Three per night, again. On the first, Lord Sol of the Blazing Sun, Lord Wolf the Hunter, and Lord Crow the Carrion Eater. On the second, Lord Shield the Defender, Lord Mask the Silent Liar, and Lord Vine of the New Growth. And just now, we had Lord the Endless, Lord Angler of the Deep Blue Sea, and Lord Bounty of the Feast. If we get Lord Peacock in the next show, we’ve got a full Grand Clock of Lords, and I don’t love thinking about that.”

A Grand Clock… unimaginable. “Has that ever happened in a single run before?”

“I’m sure it has,” she says, “but you know how few Lords ever show up to a show. I haven’t seen it happen, and I haven’t really heard about it happening except in, you know. Stage rumors.”

He drains the tea. Even if it doesn’t have the burn he wants, its lingering heat has a pleasant sear. “I mean, based on what you told me about their origin, probably there hasn’t always even been twelve lords. Maybe once upon a time, even two or three showing up was a huge deal.”

“Is it not a big deal any more?” she asks, almost sarcastic. “Have you grown used to it already?”

Fair enough. “Did you spread the dedications around?” 

“We tried to. Frederik didn’t seem inclined to do any dedications, so Shuni and I bore the brunt of it. I’ll admit we tried to steer the play a little ” 

Lucien tilts his head, watching her. She’s sipping her tea herself, her face closed off a little, her brows furrowed, but… “You seem closer to Shuni than you were before. Have you two been talking?”

“A little,” she says. “With you gone, I had to have the confrontation with him. He told me about how you’d talked to him, and insisted he knew nothing about any of this before that. That yes, he’s having the dreams, but he was hardly doing this intentionally. I almost believe him, just like I almost believe you.”

He makes a face at her. “Almost?”

“I mean, someone’s doing it,” she says. “I have to stay suspicious. If it comes down to it, if it looks like the finale is going to end in disaster, I can’t afford to have gotten complacent or let my feelings overruled my own need to take action.”

It was nice that she’s inclined to lose her suspicions, at least. “Anyone other than us you’re suspicious of?”

“I have some thoughts, but no decisions yet.” Katarin’s face has hardened a little, her jaw set. “It has to be someone involved in the production. So, cast or crew. I’m keeping my options open and I’ve been doing what I can to investigate.”

Lucien wants to dig more into that one, but she’s obviously not saying everything. Not ready yet, or doesn’t trust him enough yet, or something like that. So he follows up with a bigger concern. “Do you know where Shuni is? Or where he could be? He was going to try to get contact with a Lord, and I don’t know if he succeeded, but that was several nights ago. And he didn’t answer when I knocked, before I came to you.”

Katarin hmms. “If he’s had contact with a Lord, he didn’t tell me. Now, that doesn’t mean he didn’t, one of these nights, it just means that he didn’t tell me if he did, you know? We said goodbye after the show today, and I headed out first, but I thought he was heading home.”

“I really need to talk to him,” Lucien says, softly. He thinks about how long it’s been. Shuni must be worried for him, but probably also angry, let down, even betrayed. He’d made Shuni a lot of promises to help, and he hasn’t lived up to them yet. However reasonable and important it is to make the choices he’d made with the Moonlit Lord, that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel guilty, and it doesn’t mean Shuni won’t feel hurt. “It’s important.”

Katarin looks longingly over her shoulder, presumably toward her bedroom, but nods. “All right,” she says reluctantly. “Where do you think he is? I can help you look, if you want. As far as I can guess, he’s either back at the theatre, out with a Lord secretly, or at home asleep. Or at home, not sleeping but ignoring you. But hey, we can bang his door down if we want.”

[Please leave suggestions for Lucien in the comments.]

[Next Day]

[Previous Day]

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

Shuni not answering the door isn’t necessarily cause for concern, Lucien reminds himself. It’s far enough past dawn that Shuni might well be in bed by now, asleep or otherwise just ignoring visitors. Or perhaps he’s even still at the theatre, and Lucien simply missed him on the way out. It doesn’t necessarily mean that Shuni is gone. 

Still, he can’t help but think about poor Nan, taken by the Endless for what seemed to the cast to be one night only, but was for her so long that it was unendurable by the time she was finally returned.

—No, no good to think of that now. He knocks louder, again with no response.

Well. Shuni might just be out late; he can look for Shuni later, but at this point, he doesn’t even have anywhere to start. He’ll go to Katarin instead, he decides, trying not to feel worried about that decision. No decision feels like it would be right here. But he needs to talk to her now that he knows more, has seen more. Hopefully she, at least, will still be awake and ready to receive him. He doesn’t believe that he himself will be able to sleep any time soon, wide awake after that.

Not that he wants to have to sleep again at all. He thinks about what the Moonlit Lord said about the key and wonders how that would even work. He has a physical key, of course, but it’s been nothing more than a worry stone to him, something to hold onto when times are difficult. He’s not sure how he can use it for anything.

Lucien arrives at Katarin place fifteen minutes later, and is a bit gratified to see that her home is more like his, one of many apartment doors in a row, rather than fancy like Shuni’s. It’s dark in there, and briefly Lucien has a terrible fantasy that he’s still dreaming, or perhaps has entered another sort of reality where neither of them exist anymore. It almost takes him effort to knock, but when he does, a light comes on.

Lucien’s stomach unclenches.

It tightens again a moment later when Katarin opens the door with a scowl, frowning out at him. She’s in what he assumes is her night clothes, with a robe thrown on over it, and he can’t quite keep himself from blushing. “Do you know what time it is, Shuni?” she snaps. “I might be an actress, but you’ll entirely ruin what little reputation I have.”

He hadn’t really considered any of that, and stammers, flustered. “I, that’s—” 

The expression slowly clears. “Wait, Lucien? Is that really you? Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry,” he says. “I know that I didn’t show up for the curtain call, and I mean—I told Ran, so I imagine you all heard about the Moonlit Lord—”

She looks around past him, then opens the door to let him in. “It’s been three days.”

“—What?”   

He stands very still on the doorstep, stupefied, and she has to drag him in after that, take him to the couch and sit him down. She boils water, while he repeats, “Three days?” and she says, “Yes, Lucien, three days,” for enough times that he’s sure she thinks his mind has gone.

“I just didn’t realize,” he says, when she shoves a cup of tea in his hands. “She said I wouldn’t get the night back. She didn’t say anything else.”

“That’s how they get you, isn’t it,” she mutters. “I feel like most of them don’t have an eye for little details. You look well, considering.”

“Yes, she gave me… different dreams than the one I was having,” he says. “I’ve been… I’ve been gathering information, Katarin.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing with Shuni,” she says dryly. “It looked like you took the information I gave you and ran it over to him right away.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s not exactly like that. You’ve just got it wrong about him. He didn’t know anything about a ritual.”

“Ah, yes, he told you that, did he?”

“Yes, he did,” Lucien says. “And I believe him. Listen—”

He takes a breath, and begins to summarize his investigations so far. It’s hard, because he is, at least for now, stepping around Shuni’s personal details—all he says about that is that someone stole something from Shuni and lured him to the play. He describes the dream with the Moonlit Lord dying and him saving her, the discussion he had with the Moonlit Lord as well, and the dreams she gave him.

At one point, Katarin takes out a journal and starts making notes. “So assuming I believe you about Shuni, you think it’s someone else in the theatre. Who?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping to find the stolen item, and get a culprit that way,” he says. “Has Shuni been around while I was gone?”

“Yes, he has,” she says absently. “But Frederik had to fill in for you on very short notice.” 

He’s relieved, of course, to hear that Shuni was returned after the Endless—if he even got to see her at all. He wishes he could ask Katarin about that, but doubts that Shuni would have shared that he’d even gone with her. “What else… I feel like there’s so much I should ask you about the last few days, if I can just think of what…”

Katarin is frowning at her notes, tapping her pen against her mouth. “Yes, of course. You know, it feels like you’re leaving something out. Are you?”

[Please leave suggestions for Lucien in the comments.]

[Next Day]

[Previous Day]

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

Lucien hesitates. Of course, he has a lot of questions for the Moonlit Lord—important ones, given how desperate for information he is. But there is one question that feels more pressing than the rest.

He rolls his head against her shoulder to look up at her, at the strange night sky of her face where all the moon phases show at once. “…How are you feeling?”

She…blinks. Or at least, he thinks that’s what happens. It feels like watching the night go by a hundred times faster than it ought to, clouds flickering across the moon, but it also feels just… like a person, taken aback, not knowing how to react. “…What?”

“How are you feeling after last night?” He tries to find her hand to take it and squeeze it. Her cool, elongated fingers slide between his. “I was worried about you.”

“You were worried about me,” she echoes, her voice softly confused. “…I’m all right. Recovering. I’m not at my best, and I can’t promise you clarity. But I could never promise you clarity. That’s not really something I specialize in. I can only promise you the sense of a revelation just out of reach, things that will make more sense in retrospect. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, even if it feels more like it’s lolling. “I’m not asking because of what you can do for me. I thought you were going to die on me. Is there more I can do to help you…?”

Another long pause. “…Thank you,” she says finally. “You did so much already. I’m all right. I’ll be on guard now. I don’t think I can get drawn in again, at least so long as we avoid the dream entering reality.”

“That’s good,” he says. He’s already half-asleep, feels like he’s sleep-talking here, and her sentences are making sense in the way that things do only in dreams. “Is that what’s at stake?”

“Yes. Everything. If it goes off, we might lose everything. Or at least, it will look entirely different,” she clarifies. “Especially to me, as I’ll be gone. I don’t know if the world itself will end up dry like that, or if they will just drain all the Lords dry. But I think… a new world that exists in a place where the Lords are replaced with one single emptiness? It would be a terrible place.”

He nods. That matches what Katarin said, which is itself helpful. He wonders again if Katarin is playing him and Shuni off each other, or if she’s just blunt and straightforward. It has to be one or the other. “Do you know who’s doing this?”

“No,” she says. “If we knew, it would be easier to stop. We collectively have a lot of power. I do not think you want to see what happens when we all want someone dead.”

He shudders. Thinks of her brightness, the thorns and poison of Lord Vine, the sharp beaks and hunger for meat of Lord Crow, the instant death of the End, the endless suffering of the Endless. And there are more Lords besides. “No,” he says. “No, I don’t want to see that. Is this… is it a prophecy? Is it meant to happen? Is it required that a new Lord come into being?”

“I do not actually deal in prophecies, only premonitions,” she says. “Otherworldly creatures, they love treating the world as if it is something that can be tracked. Fae, from the greatest fae lords to the smallest brownies who work for the theatres, view the world as a series of rules. Perhaps there are rules to the world, but we are lawless creatures, and I think these premonitions are lawless too.” She just talks like this. It sort of makes sense. He hopes it still does when he’s awake again. “As for a new Lord. There are rituals. There are ways. It is not common, but I have done it, as has every other Lord that is. Yes, this is a ritual, and it can make a Lord, and what I fear is that this is the Lord it will make.”

He’s running out of questions, exhausted. There’s only one still on his mind. “Is there a way to stop me from seeing the bad dream again? Other than taking your offer just this once? I don’t want to see it anymore.”

“You could avoid sleep,” she says. “Or you could try using your key to unlock the eye inside you so that you can control your dream. It is not reality yet. You, and every changeable figure in this theatre, are simply being drawn toward the intended change. So since it is a dream, you can alter it, if you figure out how…”

Lucien cannot hold his head up, cannot handle this exhaustion any longer. She is bright and she is dark and the world is swimming. He says, “Yes, to your offer. Let me rest, just now. Let me see your better dreams with your better premonitions.” 

He feels as if he is breaking another promise, but Shuni will forgive him. Shuni saw him receive that invitation and knows what it means to spend a length of time around a Lord. He’d be too high off this contact to help Shuni anyway, so better to dream now, see if he can see something good, get some actual rest, and after… after… 

…he can work the rest out after.

“Very well.” She leans over him, and her hair is streams of moonlight falling around him as she gently kisses both eyes, and he is gone, spiraling down into a deep sleep which opens up around him like a yawning maw.

He sees: Himself, Shuni, Katarin. A fourth figure stands above them, blocking the stage lights, silhouetted and indiscernible, casting the three of them in darkness.

He sees: A hand thrust upright, holding a beating, bloody heart, and a knife, and the two being brought together in a hot spray that coats him and stings his eyes.

He sees: Two identical shapes struggling together with swords, a choreographed duel with an overhead light and shadows cast in every direction. The stage is rotating, but rotating out of control, spinning fast so that he is seeing the duel from all angles at once but cannot make anything out.

He sees: Long brown hair sliding through his fingers.

He sees: Black wings everywhere, beating around him as if it is some huge living thing, and he reaches up his bare arms to it.

He sees: Twelve figures standing huge around him, impossible, inhuman shapes, and there is a gap where a thirteenth should go, and the gap is widening, collapsing, the earth is shaking, the earth is opening, those twelve figures are tumbling into the gap, and the gap is a mouth that is parting and he

He sees— 

He— 

He wakes up alone in the boxed seat. The Moonlit Lord is gone and the stage is abandoned and dark below him. He feels… refreshed, without the lingering druggedness he’d usually expect from this experience, as if the dream itself burned through all of it to leave him nothing but awake.

Lucien draws a breath, rubs his face, and steps out of the booth. The four cards have been removed from the doors.

With an unexpected amount of clarity, he thinks that he should go find Shuni now. He will need to make an excuse, and apologize, and explain what he saw so they can work out next steps together—for real, this time. When he steps outside, he sees it’s long past dawn. Shuni would have finished his own search of the theatre, and gone off in the hopes of meeting Lord the Endless, as they’d discussed. But all their previous encounters with the Lords were over by the time the sun rose, and so likely Shuni has already headed home. 

So Lucien heads there, and he knocks, but—nobody answers, the windows are dark, and the place seems locked up tight. 

All his plans stymied, he hesitates, trying to decide what to do instead.

[Please leave suggestions for Lucien in the comments.]

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