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The last thing I felt as I died was immense pain. I thought nothingness would follow.
Instead, I woke up in a place — a room? — with no walls, no light and no life around. Only darkness surrounded me. Darkness and emptiness. I knew death was not the end, of course I did. But it was true for mortals. For me, I wasn’t sure what dying truly meant.
I bowed my head, looking at myself. My clothes were gone, and so was my skin. I was made of nothing, the contours of my body glowing a dull light, flickering like it was struggling to do so. The only exception was a light well in my chest, shaped like a key. It was the only bright source of light, but it felt wrong, like a hole in a curtain that was not supposed to be there. Mesmerized, I raised my fingers, wanting to touch it.
“Well. I must say, the inside of you is even more fucked up than I thought it would be.”
For merely a second, I froze. When I turned toward the voice, Taliesin was looking at me. He looked the same as he did during the ball, with the mask and the grin.
Right. He went inside me. He crawled in my open chest, tearing open my ribs to nudge his being in my body. Invading me. Violating the borders of my corporal form, the one I made for myself. That wretched goblin.
Something ugly tightened my throat. “You.”
“Now, hold on, love—”
I did not, in fact, hold on. Instead, I punched him in the face. Hard.
Bell’s chiming and crackling laughter followed.
I was stuck.
This became quite obvious after I had spent an eternity — or was it five minutes? — roaming around in the darkness, finding no end or beginning of this place. Wherever I was inside myself, it was a forgotten space outside time that didn’t follow any rules and certainly didn’t want to let me go.
I would have been relatively fine with it if I hadn’t been stuck here with Taliesin.
The goblin was looking at me, while I was doing this dance of marching with determination into a direction, disappearing in the dark, only to reappear right where I left in a blink. It seemed to amuse him greatly, and the more he gave me this mocking, crooked smile, the more it irritated me and made me just storm back into the dark, silently begging myself to let me out.
“Really, love, you should take a break,” he said to me after my hundredth or so attempt. “You look frantic.”
“Shut up,” I answered through gritted teeth and shallow breaths.
Taliesin tutted. “So much aggression. You’ve spent too much time around Milo I fear, that dear boy’s filthy mouth seems to have rubbed on you.”
My blood turned cold hearing his name thrown away in such a casual manner, like it was nothing, like it meant nothing. Like those four letters didn’t have any power over me, clutching the shattered pieces of my heart between their claws.
Milo.
Images came to my mind without my consent, and I knew it couldn’t be helped. A cold, closed face. A man out of reach, deaf to my words and blind to my hand trying to reach for me. A key drove into my chest. Tears falling down my face – or did I imagine that? Like I apparently imagined the rest, the soft touches and the smiles, the laughter and hands reaching for each other in the dark.
Then there was my name on his lips one final time, and then—
Nothingness.
I closed my eyes, pushing the raw memories back. It hurt. Why did it hurt?
Because Milo lied to you, Milo was the Gatekeeper, Milo betrayed you, and he never loved you and everything was fake—
“The impact that simple name has on you is astonishing. You really loved him, didn’t you?”
I shot my eyes open and turned toward Taliesin. To my hidden satisfaction, he took a step back. He was wary of me. Good, I thought. His face was still bruised from my punch, his cheek bearing the mark of my anger. I never slapped anyone before, I think, but I decided that when it came to this creature, I didn’t mind the violence — and really, it should have scared me, how even now, even like this, he could shape me so easily, turn me into something so utterly different from my own nature was.
“This is all your fault,” I said.
I have never spoken to anyone with that much venom, not even to Elias during his dinner party. My hatred almost surprised me. What is real anger? Or was I just so hurt and betrayed that I was trying to pass those ugly feelings that I didn’t want any more to the first available person?
Taliesin tilted his head in mocking sympathy. “I’m not the one who crushed your heart, dear.”
I ignored the cutting remark, refusing to let him lead the conversation like he did every other time. Even though, a little part of me couldn’t help but acknowledge that he was right on this one. I shook my head.
“You manipulated him, you made him do this. You orchestrated this whole charade and just used him to get inside me—for what? What is it that you want?”
“Well, you, of course.”
The answer was so simple, so raw — it took me aback for a second. I looked at the goblin. Taliesin looked at me back, but I knew that whatever he was seeing when doing so, wasn’t me. Or at least not the ‘me’ made of flesh and bones. He looked at me and all he saw was the Night Market in its all, and everything that was entitled with the name. He was looking at me, and he was seeing the same thing he must have seen in Milo — a means to an end.
“You don’t have me. You are inside me. And you are stuck.” I said the last words with something close to distorted pleasure, because it was true and if I didn’t enjoy my current status, knowing that Taliesin was no better than me brought some satisfaction at least.
“A simple mishap,” he brushed it off, but for a flick second, I think I saw something like uncertainty in the tilting of his head. “I’m exactly where I want to be. And I have all the time to find my way around.”
He did not. The more he would stay here, the quicker he would fade, no matter how stubborn he would act. He was neither dead nor alive at the moment, and this state was not something that was supposed to last. I wondered if he was aware of that — then realised that I didn’t care.
“If I die, you die with me.”
“If you die, we all do, love. Isn’t that exactly why your little toy boy drove that key inside you?”
With a smile of his own, Taliesin pointed at my chest. I looked down and felt my throat tighten when I saw it. The wound was still here, raw and pulsing with faint, flickering light, in the shape of a key. It hurt and it didn’t at the same time — I had even forgotten about it until Taliesin pointed it out, and now I couldn’t tear my gaze away. It was itching, compelling me to scratch at the fresh scar.
My eyes darted back to Taliesin. “Fuck you. Don’t talk about him like that.”
The goblin just laughed. I stormed toward the dark once again, knowing full well it wouldn’t get me anywhere.
I was feeling like giving up. I wanted to. It would have been the easiest thing to do. I could just lay there, in the nowhereness of my being and just close my eyes and wait for the inevitability of — well, I wasn’t sure, but something would happen. A true death, hopefully. A shut-down, anything to stop whatever this was. Because this current state was driving me crazy.
I was starting to understand what was happening, or at least I had a theory.
It was like I was locked just outside my home, standing at my very doorstep, but with no key in hand and no idea how to turn the knob. And I couldn’t turn back either, because the path behind me was gone. The only thing left to do was to enter the house, but I couldn’t.
And I had a suspicion it had something to do with my unwanted guest.
I glanced in the direction of Taliesin. He was strangely calm about all of this, just sitting there, humming to himself with his eyes closed. But I was starting to learn to see between the invisible lines of his masquerade — I should also have probably addressed the fact that I was getting good at reading him. He was as stuck as me, and he couldn’t do anything. The only one who could free us was me. So all he could do was wait.
I thought back to our first meeting. When he was pretending to be someone else, just so that he could approach me without raising any alarms. Something inside me tightened.
“What did you do to him?”
“Hum?”
“The werewolf,” I clarify. “The one you were impersonating. What happened to him?”
Taliesin cackled. I tried not to think of the fact that his laugh was starting to become a sound I knew better than any other. Whenever I would try to conjure the laughter of Milo or the giggles of Hazel in my mind now, it never sounded right any more. Like I was forgetting it, while Taliesin’s was replacing them. It was terrifying.
“Oh my dear,” he said to me in a soft, patronizing tone, voice like velvet. “Let's not do this and pretend you don’t know the answer already.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Bloodlust already? Confinement doesn’t do you good it seems,” he mocked me. Then he looked up and locked eyes with me. “I killed him, love.”
I shivered, thinking of that poor man who had been just collateral damage in Taliesin’s plan. I wondered how many more had succumbed to his hands, just because they were standing between him and his beddings. My mouth felt like it was filled with their ashes, and my throat was tight.
“You are the worst,” I muttered, with my jaw clenched.
"Am I? Are you sure about that?”
Something suddenly shifted in Taliesin’s eyes. Somehow, it seemed that simple little sentence had struck a nerve, where all my other insults before had never done much but entertain him.
He rose up to his feet and I tensed, bracing myself for a fight. But he just started walking around me, in circles, like a predator around his target.
“So. Do you want to talk about your friend the Warden, who threw people into flesh pits simply because nobody wanted to deal with them any more? Or that new little Baroness, who would slit the throat of anyone getting on her way and drink from it without batting an eye? Oh wait, I know, let’s go about your little witch friend, what did she do again?” He snapped his fingers, theatrical much. “Ah yes, she sacrificed countless souls and creatures just for the shellfish act of having her brother dear back.”
My body turned rigid, and I gritted my teeth. “Stop it.”
“I’m just getting started, love. Now, let’s not forget the most special of them all. Milo Next. Do you have any idea of the amount of blood on this boy’s hands? And I’m not just talking about his bad habit of stabbing his lovers. Yes, sorry to you, but you're not the first. He is a liar, a manipulator, a cheater, a murderer and I pass. I admit, I kind of admire him. The things he is capable of… Just look at what he did to you!”
My blood was turning cold inside me and my heart was beating faster. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shut him by ripping his tongue out of his mouth. My fingers dug in my palms.
"I told you to stop.”
Of course, Taliesin did not. “How does that feel? To know that he didn’t love you, not enough to choose you over the rest in the end. Do you think he is celebrating at the moment? Sharing a drink with his friends and laughing at that stupid little Market that he fooled good and hard. Stupid little Market, who thought that someone could love that ridiculous construct of them and make them feel like a human being.”
I launched myself at him. Taliesin was too taken by surprise to react in time, or he just didn’t want to fight back, either way, I rolled on top of him, pinning him down. He was laughing, proud of him, delighted even, with the way he could get under my skin, like no one else could.
And he didn’t even need to lie to do that. He just had to say out loud the things I was asking myself.
I wanted to hurt him. To make his smile disappear, to make him beg for mercy, to make him shut up. In a feverish impulse, I gripped him by the throat, my fingers sinking into the cold, dry meat of his neck. An insane thought came to me then. I could snap it. I unconsciously knew I had the power to do it. I could just keep pushing until I would hear his bones crack and look at Taliesin while he choked on his life escaping his body.
If Taliesin died here, inside me, by my hands, what would he become? Would he fade into oblivion, would he even be dead to begin with? I wasn’t sure. I had so little knowledge about myself, and it was driving me mad. To be finally aware of what I was yet still feeling like I needed someone else to tell me what to do and how everything worked.
Briefly, I closed my eyes, pushing the murdering thoughts away while trying to even my breath. This wasn’t who I was. I was not that kind of being. When I opened my eyes again, Taliesin was looking at me with something close to disappointment.
I looked him in the eyes while I spoke again. “You don’t know them. You are just using words to make me lose patience, but the truth is, you are as lost as me. You are stuck here.”
“I’m exactly where I wanted to be. Not sure if I can say the same about you.”
“I trust Milo.”
I was lying. Or rather, I did. I trusted him and resented him at the same time because I knew why he did it, I knew it was needed to stop the Market — to stop me from tearing myself in pieces. But the lies, the deception, the pain of having someone you thought you knew and loved look at you this way… It was too much. Too fresh. And I was not rational enough yet to exist past that yet.
“Trust!” Taliesin laughed, like I just said a wonderful joke. “Trust is the disease that led us both to this situation. He trusted me more than he trusted you. And look at what it did to you — you trusted him, and he used you to keep his cock warm.”
I bit the inside of my mouth. Damn little goblin and his million ways of getting under my skin, every time.
“I already told you to shut up. You know nothing.”
“I know a whore when I see one, darlin’,” he purred, and it was said in the same playful and flirting tone. A shiver ran down me.
I may have been above murder, but I was certainly not above punching his stupid face — again.
I closed my fist and brought it down fast on Taliesin’s cheek, my knuckles connecting with his flesh. Pain burst for both of us, and a slight crack appeared at the base of his mask. That felt good. That felt—
I froze. Something shifted around us.
Surprised, I looked up. In the middle of the dark, something pulsed, and a vivid green light was dancing in front of my eyes, taunting me to get closer.
A tear had appeared inside me.
I looked down. Under me, Taliesin was smiling knowingly at me. “See, love? When there’s a will…”
I shoved him down for good measure.
On the other side of the tear was a familiar ballroom. I sucked in a breath when I recognized Taliesin’s estate. It was the same as it was that night. The heavy chandelier was hanging from the vaulted ceiling in the centre of it, twirling with shifting crystals. There was a lingering scent in the air, a strange mix of sweetness and decay that I couldn’t quite place.
The only difference was that it was empty. No sea of dancers here, no music, no chatters, only us. Us and the silence. It gave the room a haunting look, something cold and impersonal.
I lowered my gaze. I wasn’t ‘naked’ any more — my skin was still not the right shape nor the right colour, but I was wearing clothes again. But I wished I wasn’t, for it was the same that I had that night. I remembered Belladonna choosing it for me, inspecting me with her calculating, critical gaze until she deemed me ready in what she called my ‘battle outfit’. The only difference was that I wasn’t wearing shoes. The marble floor was cold under my bare foot.
I didn’t mind — I did not like shoes much. I took mine off every occasion I had back in the Apothecary, and I had run the streets without anything to cover my feet more than once. Shoes had that terrible flaw that they blocked the sensations of the different textures the ground could have beneath me, altering my sensation of self and of my surroundings.
I liked feeling things. Of all the senses I had gained coming into a human form, the one of touch was my favourite. The solidity and sense of belonging in Hazel’s home under me when I came down the stairs to go on the little morning routines I had carved for Hazel and myself. The fluff of Mr. Billows’s fur on my ankles when he rubbed himself against me to have more cream.
The mix of soft and rough of Milo’s legs intertwined with mine while we lay in bed, naked and as close as it was physically possible for one to be with another being.
Now that my sense of self was back, I wondered if my need for being barefoot came from an instinctive need to connect my physical form to the rest of me. A way to still be linked to the ground of the Night Market.
“That will not do,” Taliesin muttered under his breath next to me, and for a second I had forgotten he was here. Or rather, a part of me was hoping he wouldn’t be able to follow.
“Not happy to be home?”
He gave me a sharp look, and I knew then that I was not supposed to hear him just now. He had slipped out of the act for merely a second, which meant that wherever he wanted to go inside me, it was not here. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. The more displeased he was, the more satisfied I grew. It was like a game of cat and mouse.
He smiled then, slipping into character once more, his full, devilish grin shining white like the bone-horns adoring his mask. “My dear market, I know what I want and how to get it, it’s only a matter of time. What about you?”
“I’m pretty sure I want you dead, and I have good enough of an idea how to fulfil that wish,” I snarled, surprising myself with my own cruelty.
It was not an emotion I was used to indulging in, but I was starting to learn that Taliesin had this ability to bring out the ugliest parts of me. The ones that I was not even aware of were here in the first place.
He laughed. The more angry I was, the more delighted Taliesin looked. Two times already I had been physically violent with him, and I did not miss the way his eyes glimmered in want at the potentiality of a third. Like he was actually enjoying the way my hands could make him bleed. He had a way to twist it into something almost more intimate than love-making, and it made my stomach curl into itself.
Taliesin offered me a hand. “Shall we, then?”
“You must be joking.”
I blinked at it, already tensing myself, waiting for the trick. He merely shrugged.
“It’s a ballroom, love. There isn’t much else to do here.”
I looked at his stretched fingers, and I could not help but remember another man beckoning me to dance with him, under the rain or around a kitchen. The memory of his fingers against my skin, my laughter pouring out of me as we twirled and bent in sync. I could not help but think about the last dance we shared, the last true moment of shared understanding and love between us, just before he tore a hole in my chest.
My gaze slowly went back to Taliesin’s face. He was smiling, like he knew exactly where my thoughts went. I curled my fists, but this time, I managed to not hit him.
Without a word nor a last glance, I walked away, pushing the doors of the estate open to find myself outside, just like I did that night. I didn’t know if I was subconsciously repeating my steps, or if I was trying to escape it. It looked the same, the courtyard at the end of the small set of steps, the only difference was the heavy silence clutching at me, the sense of claustrophobia and thick darkness creeping around me to choke me.
The fishpond was dry and empty. Everything was like a distorted mirror of that last evening, devoid of life. I looked into the horizon, feeling the discomforting ache in my chest as my hand raised to scratch at it without me thinking of it. I breathed, but it felt wrong and, feeling exhausted and lost, I sat down on the stone stairs.
To my relief, Taliesin did not follow after me. I needed a break from that haunting goblin — and yet, somehow, being alone felt worse than being stuck with him. I was not sure that I liked what it said about my current mental state.
“You need to do something about it.”
I blinked and turned my head. The voice was soft and childish. Sitting next to me was the familiar face of a little ghost girl. She had her colouring book spread in front of her, the one I had offered her, and was filling it, looking quite concentrated on her task.
“Ever? Are you really here?” I asked in disbelief.
She was not supposed to be there, inside me, but she was also a ghost and could walk the Inbetween, so it wasn’t like I could cross out that possibility entirely. Spirits could do funny things.
“No silly,” she raised an eyebrow at me, face looking a bit too serious for a six-year-old. “I’m dead, remember?”
“Right, yes—” I ran a hand over my face and inhaled while hiding myself in my palms, feeling exhausted. My chest hurt. I pushed through it and looked back at Ever, managing a weak smile. “Sorry, I was just not expecting anyone else.”
She nodded, still very focused on her colourings. “I know. You are very lonely and sad. I get like that too, sometimes.”
My throat felt tight, but I didn’t argue with Ever — or that conjured version of Ever that my inner self was making for a reason beyond my understanding. She wasn’t real. She wasn’t even a true memory, just a twisted, distorted version of the little girl I knew and who spoken with me on those stairs that night.
Besides, she was right. I was sad. And lonely, I guess.
Maybe that was why she was here. Ever was an innocent being, tied to the people dear to me, but without any hidden intentions. I remembered the shared meal we had, back at Milo’s place, the three of us, the easy conversation and the feeling of belonging that had enveloped me. For a silly second, I thought that I could have it, that I could make it work. Milo and I, together, raising a dead girl in a makeshift family. That felt like it was a lifetime ago.
Things were simpler then — or I guess they weren’t, and I was just content to play this little charade for myself, experiencing something I was not allowed to have.
“What are you colouring?” I asked, pushing my thoughts aside to focus on Ever.
I felt a tenderness for that girl gone too soon. Furthermore, I could still remember the chill creeping along my spine when I understood that she was Milo’s sister. That the man she was looking for all around the Market was the same one that had beaten Milo until that boy was convinced that love was not something he deserved.
She turned her book toward me so that I could see. I bend myself a bit, before freezing in place.
It was me. Me, lying on the ground, in Milo’s arms. I was made only of grey and red, while Ever coloured her brother a warm, shining shade of amber. Everything around us on the drawing was pitch black. So were my eyes.
I clutched my top above my heart, feeling a pang of pain inside and twisting the material in my fingers, and looked at Ever. She followed my movement and shook her head with a sympathetic smile.
“It’s alright. It’s just a bad moment, like the other times before. And like before, this too shall pass.”
“What do you mean, what other—”
Suddenly, Ever got up, and started walking toward the gardens, further in the dark. She didn’t pick up her book, and I stumbled to follow after her because there was nothing else to do. My chest was aching, like something was crawling under my skin, and I fought the urge to scratch it until it bled.
Darkness surrounded me, reminding me of the place in between where I was stuck with Taliesin just a moment before. I lost sight of Ever but kept going anyway.
When I turned, I could barely see the estate anymore.
“Ever, where are you?” I tried and called after her.
Something breathed directly in my ear.
“You need to look.”
Hearing her whisper, I turned around again, searching for Ever, but she was gone again. My chest felt like it was about to combust and there was this feeling, tugging at me, begging me to come closer. I swallowed and kept going.
I walked toward the glass trees and the fountain. Deep cuts ran through the trees, stones broken and glass shattered on the ground. The fountain smelled of rot and decay, and a deep, crimson liquid was pouring out of the mermaid statue adorning its centre.
Something glittered at the bottom of the fountain. I dipped my hand in it, clutching my fingers around the tiny object, and pulled it out, blood running along my elbow. In my palm, sat a key.
What a funny little thing, I thought to myself, as I studied it. I didn’t need to try to know that the shape was matching the scar on my chest. I recognized it before I could even touch it, for it still faintly hummed with Milo’s magic. The magic of the Gatekeeper. It was cold, and I felt a sudden and inexplicable urge to warm it up like it could help breathe life back into it.
I closed my eyes. I was walking in circles, and I was getting tired of it. Being heartbroken was no excuse, Ever was right, I needed to look, there was a bigger picture at play. Because I remembered now. All this time, I was the one leading myself to this moment.
I remembered looking at Milo, sneaking a peek over his shoulders as he was holding onto that old spell book and I remembered putting my hands over his shaking ones and thinking ‘let’s do it’. I knew the consequences, I knew it would hurt, but I decided to do it anyway. The only thing I did not anticipate was how fast and hard I would be falling in love with this boy — I already was, a little. I have always been a little in love with my Gatekeepers, all of them, in various ways and intensity.
Milo made mistakes. But killing me wasn’t one — and it was the Night Market saying this, not me, but since we were the same, it didn’t matter who did. It was supposed to happen, even if that version of me didn’t like the way it did. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t do anything about it. I was back in myself now – stuck, more like. Because the man I had fallen in love with tried to save the world and by doing so, opened a hole in my chest.
But there was more to it. Something was not supposed to happen that night, something that even Milo or my higher self didn’t see coming. There was a parasite running around those walls. A goblin haunted my chest, peering around my head and lurking between my ribs. And I could do something about it.
I opened my eyes, tucked the key in my pocket and turned away from the fountain.
I walked back to the estate. Taliesin was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, looking rather bored. I sensed him before even seeing him. I could feel a pull toward him, like an itching in my body, similar to the one in my chest. I could still feel the ghost of his fingers pushing my rib cage open as he crawled inside me.
He gritted his teeth at me as I stopped in front of him, feigning sympathy. “Back so soon, dear?”
“You wanted a dance, didn’t you? Fine. Let’s do this.”
He wasn’t expecting this and gave me a look, but it was quickly replaced by a charming smile and a delighted ringing of the bells on his mask. He offered me his hand once more, and this time, I took it. I let him guide me inside.
The ballroom was still empty. There was no music, no bright lights. Just us, two lost wanderers, haunting a twisted memory. It didn’t stop Taliesin, as he led me to the centre of the room. We bowed, greeting each other. He took the lead, one hand sitting on the deep of my lower back. We started dancing the waltz, once again mimicking the events of that night.
It was slower at first, compared to the first dance we shared. More intimate, but also more predatory. The first time, my head was spinning as fast as my feet, and I was underwhelmed with too many questions and betrayals.
Now, however, I felt more in control. I forced Taliesin to a change of pace and took satisfaction in the twitching of his good eye. I was not his prey, but rather another predator, and we were circling each other, trying to see which one would make the first move and go for the jugular.
"Pray tell, what did change your mind?” he finally asked.
“Well, even uninvited, you are still a guest here, Taliesin. I’m merely doing my duty by making sure you are comfortable and behaving.”
He span me, quickening the pace. “How touching of you.”
I leaned toward him, close enough to see his eyes hiding in the shadows of his mask, close enough to feel his breath against my face.
“Make no mistakes here. For all your claims about being where you're meant to be, do not forget one thing. You are trapped within me. And I can keep you here for as long as I want because while you are here, you cannot do anything.”
We stopped, breathing against each other, head still dizzying a bit.
A slow, cold smile crept on Taliesin’s lips, parting them enough for me to have a glimpse at his pointed teeth. I didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Talking with Taliesin was another kind of dance. A push and pull that we were bound to repeat in the timeless maze of my mind. And I knew the rhythm and the footwork now.
He raised his hand, and a finger curled against my cheek, barely touching the skin, like a phantom caress. I restrained a shiver, not knowing if it was because of the gesture, or because he was looking at me like I just made him fall in love with me.
“Oh, Market dear,” he breathed out, almost tenderly. “You are everything I wished for and even more. It almost makes me sad to think that this little game of ours will come to an end.”
Pulling away without breaking eye contact, I took a step back. The dance was over. And I could feel in my chest that familiar tug, painful, but not as much as before. In my pocket, the key was warm once more, and I knew then that something had shifted. The door was unlocked.
I cast one last glance toward my goblin.
“Enjoy your stay, Taliesin Hynsin. Because I am your prison and I am eternal. You are never getting out.”
His cackling laughter followed after me while I vanished in the dark, leaving the ballroom, leaving that night behind me.
We’ll see about that, love.