Rhian

My hand cramped and my heart ached by the time we were finished, and though I hadn't looked at my watch-slash-compass before we started, it was around eleven in the evening when we were finally done. I found Sebastian pacing the atrium, alone.

"Where have you been?" he asked. Looking a bit disheveled, he'd taken off his necktie, his jacket was open, and his shirt was unbuttoned partway.

"In our rooms," I said.

"All of you? And all this time?"

I nodded.

"Well, I was beginning to worry."

"Well, there was no need," I answered. "How was the museum?"

"An indulgent and yet irritating experience, Rhian Sinclair, thank you for asking. By the by, I ran into your missing companions. They retain their sense of selves, seem to have warmed up to one another, and are all having a fantastic time with the festivities around our foretold return."

"All right," I said. "I'll take it. Where's Jakob?"

"His room."

"Have you had the chance to speak with Avis?"

"That isn't Avis, my friend. There's no talking to whatever that is."

"About that, Sebastian, would you mind joining me in the salon?" I asked and added to the list of things I never thought I'd say.

"Would I mind joining you in the salon?" Sebastian flashed a cheeky smile. "That sounds serious. Am I to have my privileges revoked?"

I swatted him. "Go, salon."

And we went, with a laugh, to the salon.

We sat on the couch. A closed book had already been placed on the table in front of us.

"Is this Michael Reider's?" Sebastian asked.

"Have a look."

I nudged my head forward, and Sebastian opened the book to face a drawing of himself as a boy with a fun-loving smile, his silvery eyes on display.

Sebastian side-eyed me, and then back to the page.

Once there was a boy named Sebastian who dreamed of a world that was safe for all; a world wherein he'd be free to remove his mask and let the people see him for who he was…

He shook his head and turned the page.

…Not cursed, but blessed with a rebellious heart and a benevolent spirit. He dreamed of a world wherein his brother would be free to run without fear of judgment, without shame or regret. Not cursed, but blessed with a loyal heart and a forgiving spirit…

Sebastian ran a hand over the illustration. I'd chosen to use a fair bit of blue in the colour scheme seeing as it was his favourite. A painting of him and his brother, without the mask and without the cane, playing with the other children.

But even then, they were together, side by side.

"Did you…?" he asked.

"Aye," I said. "And Strauss wrote the words."

"I see." A pause. "Let's see what you've both done, then."

…Sebastian didn't have friends but for his brother whom he loved more than anyone. When he was scared, his brother would tell him stories about a world wherein they were both safe, and in which they were free to let the people see them for who they were…

Next was an illustration of him and Zacharias as kids, cozy in their blanket fort. But Sebastian shook his head and turned another page to find a new picture, this time with their instruments. Sebastian and his violin, Zacharias and his cello.

…Not cursed, but blessed with artistry and with each other. When Sebastian's fingers hurt after hours of practice, his brother rubbed his hands and promised not to tell if they stopped for a while…

"I was awful about practice." Sebastian chuckled and pretended to play a scale. "It's a wonder we didn't argue about it more often. But Zacharias was always patient, even if I wasn't always."

"We're a fair bit alike, and I was a pain in the arse when I was a wee lass. It can't have been easy for him."

"No, probably not."

He turned the page.

Sebastian stared for a long while at the illustration of him and Avis at around twelve years old. They were both dressed nicely, sat up against a blue Vonsinfonie caravan. He held his mask in his hands, and she looked at him with wonder.

"I remember this day," he said.

…Sebastian didn't have friends but for his brother, and in time, a girl named Avis. 'Why do you always cover your eyes?' she asked…

"Because the world mustn't know I'm cursed," Sebastian said.

…'Because the world mustn't know I'm cursed.' But how could the boy who played the most beautiful music Avis had ever heard be cursed?"…

Sebastian smiled to himself. "Take off your mask."

…'Take off your mask,' she said, as she often would. 'Someone might see,' he replied, as he always would. But nobody did see; nobody but Avis who put her hand on his knee, insisted he was perfect, and vowed to remind him every day…

"She did, you know," he said. "Remind me every day. When she could, anyway. At first when we were on tour together, then when we were home, and all that time before she... She and I would talk about opening a theatre in the city. Zacharias and Avis could be together, start their family, and I…"

"Why didn't you?"

"Zacharias insisted we needed the exposure, the money, et cetera."

"Well, I know for a fact Zacharias wanted to be home with Avis, but he didn't think you'd be happy settling down. He didn't want anybody making sacrifices."

"I would have been more than happy. I only ever wanted to be with them."

"Aye, you should probably clear that up."

"…Yes, probably."

Sebastian looked back to the book.

…As the boy grew, so did the bonds. And when Avis and his brother fell in love, it was, for Sebastian, the promise of a lifetime with his best friends…

…It was the promise of a lifetime, but it was, too, a lifetime that promised to be short when Sebastian contracted a fatal illness, damaging his lungs. He knew he was dying; a truth, an instinct one never needs to know exists until it's felt…

He paused on the illustration of himself playing the violin alone in a moonlit field.

…And so, Sebastian concealed his truth yet again, in hopes he and his best friends could live the rest of his days in a small-scale replica of the world he'd dreamed: full of love, free of fear, and empty of regret…

But the moonlit field on the next page showed them all together again, Sebastian with his violin, Zacharias with his cello, and Avis with her canvas.

"This is…"

…But Avis knew he was dying; a truth, an instinct one never needs to know exists until it's felt. Who would she be without the boy who never expected anything from her except to be happy, the one who fueled her rebellious heart?…

…And who would he be without the girl who never expected anything from him except to be himself, the one who fueled his benevolent spirit? 'It's not too late to change the world,' she said. And, 'If you say it, I believe it,' he replied…

"And we did, didn't we? We all three changed the world. And what a magnificent mess we made. Avis with her ambition, my brother with his obsession over controlling every. Little. Thing." Sebastian leaned forward. "Me, and what I did to all of you."

"What you did? Gave us pretty eyes, special powers, and shitty lives that ended up being difficult in different ways to other people's shitty lives? Look, I didn't love every minute of it, but that's the way of things, isn't it? Thanks for the eyes and the powers, and while I can't speak for every Partisan, I forgive you. Strauss forgives you. Adeline forgives you. The whole lot of us, mate. You did the best you could."

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Sebastian put his arm around my shoulders, squeezed, and carried on reading.

…And so, the brothers embarked on the quest for immortality in the form of the memories they'd make and the ones they'd leave behind—those of the people whose lives they touched along the way, and of the mystical creatures they helped. When Sebastian became too winded to travel, his brother rubbed his back and promised to protect him at all costs. Because who would he be without him? And who would he be without him?…

"Half of a whole," Sebastian said.

…In the final minutes of his twenty-seven years, Sebastian drank the fabled elixir not because he trusted it, but because he trusted her, and because he hadn't yet seen the world he'd dreamed, the world in which he and his brother and everyone was free. And when he woke up, hungry, scared, but more capable than ever, he rushed to the place he most wanted to be; at home with the girl, and at peace with his brother…

"I didn't know what I was doing that night," he said. "I was grieving for her, for myself, and I was frightened. And I was…"

"I know."

"But if I hadn't gone home, then she would be…"

"Dead?" I said.

"And Jakob would have been?"

"Who knows, but two things can be true," I said. "You can feel badly about the way things happened, but also accept that because of the way things happened, Jakob and Avis are alive, and that part of you was relieved."

"That a part of me still is relieved," he admitted. "But what if we can't get her back?"

"Everything Avis has done here in Leberecht was because of a dream the three of you had. A world full of love, free of fear, and empty of regret. She just… went a bit far."

"Even if I can sympathize with that, what she's done to Jakob, I can't. And she's the one who turned on me—the monster, apparently—and yet I was the one who went on to live a relatively peaceful millennium without indoctrinating a city. I would have done anything for her. For all of them."

"If that's true, then what the fuck does anything else matter?" I said. "You can choose to hate her, or you can choose to help her. Begrudge your brother, or don't. You get choices, imagine that. But you three started this, and you three can end it. Jakob gets to make his own choices, too, when, hopefully, his mum remembers him again."

Sebastian sighed.

"By the way, there's still one more page," I said.

After a moment, Sebastian turned to the very last page, and the Tinkerer's special touch unfolded before our eyes. She called it a pop-up book, and the scene between the pages had been constructed using thin strips of shaped metal and clever hinges.

It was of a figure with a violin, caught in a dance.

When the scene had fully formed, the recording began to play:

"There he is. My best friend."

"We're going to change the world one day, Avis."

"If you say it, I believe it."

Crackle.

"Will you play a song for me? So I can listen whenever I like?"

"Do you have a preference?"

"Surprise me."

Sebastian leaned back to listen to the song with a small, stunned smile on his face.

A steady calm. A promise of peace. A burst of rebellion.

"I love you, Bastian."

Crackle, pop. The music stopped.

"I love you too, Avis."

Andrei

While Sinclair was speaking with Sebastian, I was tasked with handling Zacharias whom I found in the conservatory. It seemed Avis had maintained her instruments for centuries in preparation for the brothers' foretold return, and Zacharias was occupied at the cello. I paused at the threshold until he stopped playing and urged me inside.

I let the door close behind me.

"Andrei Strauss," he said. "How can I help you?"

"Do you have a moment to talk?" I asked.

A familiar tapping as the composer made his way across the room. "Come, sit," he said, and once we were seated, I offered Zacharias the book I carried.

A quiet creak when he opened the cover, and another when he instantly closed it.

"Absolutely not," he said, tap tapping on his story. "I'm not doing this."

"Why not? We all worked quite hard on it."

"Because I don't need a book to remind me how much I love my brother and my wife. I don't need a book to remind me what I did." A pause. "I only dreamed of a reality in which my brother would be safe. A reality wherein he would no longer be a spectacle, but simply himself among others like ourselves. But safety requires rules, and order, and I couldn't do it all."

"That's why you kept creating the Anima. To curate a world in which you and your brother could exist with others like yourselves, exist without fear or shame. Further, you worried your show was becoming stale, and the Anima were the obvious answer. Not because you were greedy or vain, but because who were you without each other and the road?"

"And what does any of that matter, Andrei Strauss?"

"Because it isn't your responsibility to decide everything for everyone, Zacharias," I said. "Sebastian would have been happy moving to the city. He may have seemed restless, but he never would have resented you the way you resented him for a choice you never let him make. He wanted to be with you and Avis more than anything. You could have found a way."

"But we didn't, and here we are—what do you want me to say?"

"You should apologize to your brother," I said.

"Whatever for?"

"For underestimating him. For under appreciating him."

"I make it no secret that Sebastian is an immensely talented individual."

"Sebastian didn't think you enjoyed spending time with him, when it wasn't about the music or Avis. He felt undervalued as a person, not as a product or a performance."

"That's nonsense. That's Sebastian at his best, when he's—why would he think that?"

"Did you ever tell him otherwise?"

A silence.

"What else must I apologize to my brother for, then?"

"For lying to him about Jakob."

"I lied about Jakob being dead to protect Avis. And Sebastian, too, frankly."

"And for betraying him with the Six?"

"I didn't betray him with the Six. I kept him safe from the Six."

"Whatever your reasons, Zacharias, your brother feels betrayed, and you can be sorry to the people you hurt, even if you hurt them with good intentions."

I reached into my vest and retrieved the photograph Sinclair had stolen from her exhibit, offering it over toward Zacharias. She'd been loath to give it up but thought it may help.

It was quiet for a time.

"He was a natural," he said. "Not like me. I had the head and the heart, but the skill? It came more slowly. Sebastian, though, he makes everything look easy, doesn't he?"

"You've said it yourself, he is the world's greatest illusionist."

A sustained silence.

"And look at him, so full of life…"

"Your brother wants to forgive you, but first you have to admit that you hurt him."

"I only ever wanted to protect him."

"Two things can be true."

A breeze when Zacharias shook his head. He eventually opened the book on his lap, saying nothing as he flipped through the pages.

"Our wedding day," he said.

"You never believed she loved you as much as you loved her, but she did. She does."

"She and Sebastian were—I admit, Andrei Strauss, I wasn't always there for Avis in ways he could be, but I took great comfort knowing he would be."

"What stopped you from relating to them in the same way?"

"Because I feared if I allowed myself to feel the exhaustion, the stress, the worry, if I acknowledged any of my sentiments out loud, even the good—everything would fall apart. I'd fall apart. Uncertainty wrapped in resolve, and if I let slip—"

A feeling I understood all too well.

"—this is why I'm certain my brother's the only one who can get through to her."

Zacharias turned another page.

"No," I replied. "There's no sense being subtle about this, Zacharias: that's where we went wrong with The Idea. It was never about only Avis. It's not just about Sebastian. The three of you need to remember each other again so you can remember yourselves."

"What she's done," Zacharias said. "And our son…"

"We'll fix it," I said.

"Uncertainty wrapped in resolve?"

"Absolutely."

Zacharias breathed a chuckle, whether he'd meant to or not. After closing the book, he tapped the cover three times. "I will read your story, Andrei Strauss. But first—a piano in the corner to your right. Remind me what you've learned. I'll accompany you."

Rhian

"I'm nervous," Sebastian said.

"Why are you nervous?" I asked.

"I don't know, what if he doesn't—they pair very well, don't they?"

"It's quite beautiful," Adeline agreed.

The sound of Strauss and Zacharias playing in the conservatory was faint but it was pretty. And let me just say: listening to Strauss play piano would become one of my favourite free things. But once the music stopped, it was another five, ten minutes of Sebastian pacing the atrium and me digging for snacks in my bag afore the two came down the ramp.

Zacharias carried his storybook under his arm the same way Sebastian carried his.

When the brothers met in the middle, much of what needed to be said in the moment had already been felt and the two went straight to the hugging. This time, neither still wanting to be mad at the other. They'd have a lot to talk about later, but for now, Zacharias whispered something into Sebastian's ear, and Sebastian kissed the side of his brother's head. They turned to us, and from the east wing and the west wing, the Tinkerer and the Writer joined us.

"Matilda," Zacharias said.

The Writer's quill twirled.

"Delilah," Sebastian added.

The Tinkerer's doohickey bobbed.

Strauss and I took each other's hands.

Adeline scurried over and basically cuddled with us.

"A few centuries late." The Writer handed Avis's storybook over to the brothers, and Sebastian insisted Zacharias take it. "It will be delicate."

It wasn't long before Avis drifted down the ramp, wondering why Delilah needed her so urgently. She blew a kiss to Zacharias. He caught it and blew one back.

When she reached the bottom, Sebastian took a step toward her.

"Bastian," she chimed. "Button your shirt, darling. You're all a mess."

Sebastian took another step toward her, but he didn't tie his buttons.

"I'd almost swear you've been avoiding me," she said.

Sebastian shook his head and laid his hand against her cheek.

She looked at him with wonder.

"Now why would I be avoiding my best friend?" he asked.

"I don't—" She hesitated. "Your shirt, Bastian."

"Will you come with me and Zacharias somewhere?"

"Anywhere," she replied. "But your shirt, Bastian."

Sebastian buttoned his buttons, and she smiled.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"We're going to change the world, Avis," Sebastian answered, offering his arm.

Avis Adler laughed joyously, linking hers with his. "Well, if you say it, I believe it."

The pair joined Zacharias and the three disappeared into the salon.

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