The Final Act

For Astonies, magic is both a gift and a curse: its use deteriorates their health until they are faced with the Final Act, a moment of spontaneous combustion in which their magic consumes the last of the bodies that it has been ravaging as a fuel source.

On the verge of losing the love of her life, Lena—a Retired Astony—joins a research trial that is attempting to reverse the harmful effects of magic. However, the medication starts to backfire, and Lena has to decide: how far will go she to save the man she loves?

Finally the number one Astony, Cat thinks she has it all: fame, popularity, riches, and the handsome Connor. But when she wakes up blind—and one magical use away from the Final Act—Cat must confront the realities of living a life of permanent disability versus literal death.

Arie’s goal has always been to become a doctor to the Astonies. Then she starts dating the famous (and newly single) Connor. After witnessing the true costs of magic on both his and her patients’ health, it challenges the core of her beliefs. Will she stand by and watch, or will she speak out against the Final Act?

These stories (NEVER LET ME GO meets CHILDREN OF BLOOD AND BONE) intertwine as Cat, Lena, Arie, and Connor grapple with the true meanings of acceptance, sacrifice, heroism, love, disability, and death.

Arie was six years old the first time she saw someone commit the Final Act. Her father had just parked his rental car at the Bella Grove, the brand new mall extravaganza. He unbuckled her from her booster seat as she squirmed, trying so eagerly to get out that it took him longer than usual to untangle her from the straps. He laughed as he swung her down onto the black asphalt.

She hardly noticed the cold wind nipping at her exposed cheeks as she tugged on her father’s mittened hand in a futile attempt to make him go faster. Just across the parking lot was the mall, and just inside the mall was the plaza where the mage Simone West was selling her new book. If you purchased it, she would sign her Astony playing cards. Arie owned all three versions.

“C’mon, Daddy!” Arie called over her shoulder.

Her father grimaced, and she turned her head to see a few protestors blockading the way into the mall. The small hairs rose on the back of her neck at their small slitted eyes and the spittle that flew from their mouths as they screamed. Black robes, bulging over winter jackets, draped down to their shins. Powdered wigs curled in cheap ringlets down their necks. Silver plastic buckles shook with every stomp of their black sneakers.

Lousy imitations of the Salem judges who had sentenced witches, some of whom might have been Astonies, to death.

“Phonies Astonies!” they chanted, their homemade cardboard signs shaking from the vigor of their pumping arms. Arie squinted at them, but the words were too long and difficult for her to read. “Burn Simone West! Burn the Coalition!”

Uh-oh. Her father hated the Revelationists. She dared a quick peek at his face. A vein pulsated in his temple, and he was muttering under his breath.

“Please don’t make us leave again, Daddy,” Arie pleaded.

She widened her eyes and stuck out her lower lip. The bunched muscles around his shoulders loosened. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her keppe through the top of her favorite pink beanie.

“With Simone West about to sign your playing cards?” he said, and she could tell it was an effort for him to smile. “Never.”

Arie hurried forward before he could change his mind. Of course he had parked as far away from the event as possible. Cars circled the busy lot, their shrill horns beeping as people fought over the same spots. She slipped on a piece of black ice, and her father righted her before she fell. The snow she had reveled in yesterday was only a hindrance today.

She paused before the narrow street to let a few cars pass. Several yards away stood a young woman, whose bright pink hair poofed up from beneath blue headphones. Her fuzzy black boot tapped to music only she could hear. Arie’s eyes lit up.

“Daddy, look!” Arie pulled on her father’s hand, pointing as she gazed up at him. He was so tall. “Can I do that with my ha—”

A deafening screech reverberated through the parking lot. Her gaze snapped to the noise, and she barely caught the taillights of a red sports car before it fishtailed out of sight behind a used clothing store. A hot burst of wind blew past her, and dry air and leaves flew into her face. She threw up a hand, squinting through the detritus to see a blurred shape skidding to a stop on the opposite sidewalk.

Her mouth hung open as the blur transformed into the pink-haired young woman, who was now clutching a wailing toddler to her stomach. The blue headphones laid twisted on the street. The woman—clearly a mage, and maybe even an Astony—skidded to a stop before she crashed into the building.

A panicked man ran over and plucked the child out of her arms.

“Oh, thank you,” he cried. “You saved my son’s life.”

The woman nodded, panting too hard to answer. Strands of curly pink hair streamed across the deep circles bagged under her eyes. Arie smiled as the father pressed his cheek against his son’s tiny golden ringlets.

Then the mage’s eyes widened. A blowback of air gusted over the father and son as she barreled away from them. Mid-motion, her ebony skin erupted into flames. Her body burst into an orange and black ball of fire.

The explosion mushroomed high into the clear bright sky. Heat blasted Arie’s frozen face as the subsequent boom echoed in her chest. She tried to scream but ash coated her tongue, and the taste of burning skin made her stomach roll and bile rise in her throat.

She blinked, trying to clear her eyes. Her father scooped her up and sprinted back to the car. He threw her into the passenger seat, not bothering to buckle their seatbelts before peeling out of the parking lot. When he swerved, Arie cried out as she tumbled against the door.

Terrified, she looked to her father, only to see him sucking down quick breaths of air. The whites showed all around his eyes.

Her tears blurred the edges of the fire trucks hustling past them. She twisted to watch through the back windshield as they gathered around the smoking street. The father still stood there, clutching his son. Their tattered clothes had almost burned away.

Could she, too, suddenly burst into flame?

“Daddy!” Arie yelled.

Her father pulled over to the side of the road. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel. The frizz from his reddish-brown hair shone in the late afternoon sunlight, and his shoulders shook. That scared her even more than the mad rush out of the mall.

Trembling, she climbed over the center console and onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around him, although they did not quite reach around his torso.

“I’m sorry, Arie baby.” He wiped his hand across his eyes and hugged her back. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. But Daddy’s been having a hard time since your mommy passed away, and this brought back a bad memory.” He stroked her pink beanie. “Would you be okay if I dropped you off at your grandparents?”

“Sure, Daddy.”

He kissed both her cheeks. Then he strapped her into her booster seat and drove at a crawl to her bubbe and zaide’s house. He had her wait in the car while they spoke in low voices.

Arie’s lower lip trembled as she watched. That memory must have been really bad; he was usually so calm and patient. She wanted to kiss it and make it better, but she wasn’t sure where memories were.

It felt like forever before her grandparents got in the car and took her out for ice cream. She loved strawberry, and she had almost finished the two scoops and waffle cone when her bubbe told her the truth about her mother’s death.

Arie was never able to eat strawberry ice cream again.

#

Years passed before Arie found any information on the young woman with pink hair: Clarissa Clementine, only thirty-three years old at the time of her death. Clarissa’s magic had been the ability to move at the speed of sound. She had never made it past the minor teams of the Astony Mage Coalition, which explained why there was only one small article on her in The Histories.

Arie wondered if Clarissa had known that saving the toddler would be her Final Act—the moment when her magic combusted the last vestiges of the body it had ravaged as a fuel source. Would Clarissa still have used her magic if it had been an old man in the street? The father instead of the toddler?

In college, Arie signed up for an elective on Astony Physiology. The science fascinated her; it was one of the best classes she had ever taken. She could not believe the courage of these people who sacrificed their bodies—and sometimes their lives—to help save the world. It cemented her decision to apply to medical school, and then to residency at the Innsbrook Medical Center for Astonies. She wanted to take care of the people who were taking care of the world.

But even though Arie understood the science behind the Final Act, she was not sure she truly understood the act itself.