Lucky Charm

In one day, I managed to lose both my powers and my twin sister. It probably happened simultaneously; when I saw her lying on the ground, I felt weaker, as if a part of me was not there anymore. I approached her body cautiously, measuring my steps, feeling the panic slowly take hold of me. My body grew heavier until my legs gave in, and I collapsed to the floor next to her. As I moved closer to her face, I could hear her faint breathing and see smears of blood and dirt on her beautiful cheeks—cheeks that would resemble mine for just a little longer before they no longer would.

The memory of that moment remained hazy, but what stood out clearly was her last breath. It was neither beautiful nor magical—just the desperate wheezing of a dying person. As she exhaled for the final time, I felt something else leaving my body along with her. I thought this must be what people mean by the twin connection—her death felt like part of me was dying, too. However, what I truly felt at that moment was my powers slipping away. I didn’t realise it immediately; I was too engulfed in grief to notice that I had lost my abilities. I spent most of my time in bed, wallowing in sorrow. Never had I felt so alone in my life, not like this. I also delegated ruling authority to my commander. My father would not have approved of that, but he was dead and should have known better than to give his daughters the responsibility to rule. We were not prepared for what came to us.

So I told the commander to deal with the Rebellion however he saw fit. I said I’d had enough of this war; it was time to put an end to it on our terms. I only told him to bring me the one who had murdered my sister. He smirked and asked if I wanted to deal with the murderer myself, and I entertained the idea, thinking it would be the just thing to do. I wanted him to suffer as much as my sister had. Yet, when I opened my mouth, something else came out, as if I were too ashamed to appear brutal and violent. I didn’t want to be like that scum on the streets, having lost all value for human life. So, I tried to make a joke about having a weak stomach, hoping to mask my discomfort. Since I was never good at jokes, nobody laughed.

A week later, they brought an injured man to the big hall, and I stood there, facing him. It was my wish to be alone with him; I wanted him to tell me about my sister’s death in private as if still trying to honour the memory of her. He knelt on the mahogany floor, his shirt ripped and bloodied and his hands tied behind his back. He wasn’t looking at me, gazing at something at my feet. His breath was laboured as if he had been running. I could see a deep scratch on his left cheek, partially hidden by a strand of chestnut brown hair that looked almost red in the light falling from the high windows.

‘So you killed my sister then?’ I asked, and it took all of me to stop my voice from trembling. I was scared to look at him because his presence made my sister’s death feel too real, too tangible.

He did not answer, did not even move his eyes.

‘It’s fine if you don’t talk,’ I said, and it was true. I didn’t need him to tell me a single word. A part of me was afraid of what he had to say.

At this point, I still thought I could rely on my powers to get the truth out of him. So that was what I did: I looked at him and prepared to feel the tingle in my eyelids before getting inside his brain. Usually, after that, I would have had access to his memories, shuffling, reliving, and searching for the right one. When none of it happened, I stood there for a while, dumbstruck. It had never occurred before; I could access people's memories for as long as I could remember, which gave us an advantage in the war against the rebels. Usually, I could see what the captives had kept to themselves and never thought of sharing—but not anymore. I tried to remember the last time I used my powers, but I couldn’t; it was like I never had them in the first place. Then, he started speaking, his hoarse voice making me flinch.

‘I didn’t kill her,’ he said, finally looking at me. His breathing was calmer now, accepting of whatever was about to come.

‘Then who did?’ I asked, not really wanting an answer because I knew the truth already. The commander claimed he saw this man kill Bess, so he had to die, too; it was a matter of time. I was ready to call for guards to take him away and to contemplate my loss of powers when he said:

‘It was the commander.’

I looked at him, completely startled. It was the audacity that surprised me the most.

‘I know you don’t believe me,’ he continued, ‘but it’s the truth. Your sister did not trust him in the end. She said there was evil in that man. She felt he was going to hurt her.’

‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense,’ I said. I was getting impatient. If only I could get my powers to work, I would have quickly put this whole thing to rest.

‘Bess knew you wouldn’t believe me,’ he says, his eyes drilling into mine. ‘But I have something. It’s in the pocket of my shirt. Have a look.’

He looked grave when he said it, almost like he didn’t realise how ridiculous his request was.

‘If you think I will fall for that, you are an idiot,’ I said, growing angrier. Why did I keep entertaining this man when he was the one who killed my sister and was clearly making fun of me? I shouted for the guards to come and turned away. I felt the tears burn my eyes, and I did not want him to see. He said something else, but the creaking of doors drowned out his words.

The commander came in afterwards and asked if I had managed to get the truth out of the prisoner. I glanced at the man in front of me: he was in his late forties, with a few grey strands lost in his bushy beard. His black eyes were hidden behind messy eyebrows. He looked intimidating, tapping his foot on the floor, expecting an answer. I tried to glimpse into his brain but couldn’t. I decided not to reveal that I no longer had my powers—at least not yet. Instead, I made an excuse, saying I was tired and needed more rest before delving into his mind. ‘Living in other people’s heads is exhausting,’ I said, and he believed me. The truth was, it was invigorating to see people’s thoughts and memories, and I missed it. Not more than Bess, but enough to make me miserable.

The commander then informed me that the rebels had taken over a small village nearby, but our soldiers would drive them out sooner or later. I nodded and said I would pay an additional visit to the prisoner.

Later that day, I went down to the basement where the cells were. They were never full because we rarely kept prisoners. They stayed long enough to give us the information, and then the commander dealt with them. I didn’t ask him what he did to them, but I was sure they deserved whatever came for them. A year ago, they broke into one of the palaces and killed a dozen people sleeping in their beds. Slaughtered them. I was sure because I saw it in the rebel’s heads, their memories soaking in blood.

Downstairs, I was greeted by the jailer, a bent man in his sixties who permanently smells of cheap alcohol. Out of curiosity, I tried to get into his head, but again, nothing. He told me the prisoner was in the farthest cell and that they found something interesting on him. He showed me a golden locket and added that it was probably stolen. And I knew it was because it used to belong to Bess.

The prisoner was sitting by the back wall, his hands crossed on his chest. He noticed me, and his whole body stiffened.

‘You killed her and then stole her locket,’ I said, furious. The golden trinket was still in my hand, and I could feel its cold metal caressing my skin.

‘She gave it to me,’ he answered quietly.

‘This is not going to save you. None of your lies are going to save you from death. You realise that, right? The decent thing you can do is to tell me why you killed her. She was not a soldier. She never wished bad on anyone. She did not deserve to die.’

I felt the tears coming again, and I hated myself for it. Bess despised the war; she should not have died. She detested the fact that innocent people suffered, and if it were up to her, it would all be over in a second. She used to say forgive and be forgiven; the blood was spilt from both sides, so let's mend our wound and agree on something that would satisfy both sides. Only it was never an option, not for the commander and his army anyway. As for me, I was driven by revenge, and I did not want the culprits to go unpunished.

‘She said it was her lucky charm, that it had brought her luck during archery competitions. Said I needed luck more than she did and gave it to me. Wasn’t that lucky, it appears,’ he said, letting out a soft, sad chuckle.

Bess was always secretive about her belief in superstitions, yet here he was, telling me about it.

‘How do you know all of this? And don’t tell you were friends or whatever. Bess wanted the war to stop, but she would never betray us like that. She would never side with an enemy.’

‘Well, probably, that’s why she’s never told you.’

‘You lie,’ I snapped, unsure of my words for the first time. After relying on my powers for so long, I wasn’t used to deciding whether to trust people. How could anyone be? Meanwhile, my anger was unshakable, demanding that this man be killed as quickly as possible.

‘She knew that if she mentioned something like this to you, you would not take it lightly. Maybe even tell it to the commander. So she kept quiet.’

‘Why would she deal with someone like you, anyway?’ I asked, feeling my anger grow into hatred and contempt.

‘We met in the forest by the meadow. I was running from the guards, and I saw her. I thought she would alert the soldiers, but she was quiet for a bit and then told me to hide in the bushes nearby. I did not want to trust her, but I also did not have much time, so I hid, and she sent the guards in the wrong direction. When I came out, I asked her why she helped me. And she told me she saw my dreams. Said I wanted the same thing she did.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Peace,’ he said, looking at me expectantly like he was sure I believed his tale.

He was right about one thing: Bess did have powers. She had the ability to enter people's minds, but unlike me, she could only see their dreams and aspirations. It made her soft, I thought. While I witnessed the atrocities people committed daily, she saw their pink dreams of a better future. Only she did not want to recognise the extent to which people were willing to go to achieve it.

‘We met up a couple more times, and one day, the commander saw us together. Bess told me to run and then faced him, pleading to come to his senses. She tried to explain everything, but he pulled out his gun and shot her. He knew she saw his twisted dreams, so he did not have any choice but to kill her. I managed to run away, but he found me a week later. Beat me up and said he knew you would lose your powers as soon as Bess was dead. Said, you would never believe me over him.’

That night, I couldn’t sleep. When I finally dozed off, I saw Bess, and we were in the meadows. She was standing beside me, caressing my face, holding a single wilted flower in her other hand.

‘What do you dream about, Nessy? I cannot figure you out,’ she said.

‘We can’t use our powers on one another, so I can’t see your memories, too,’ I replied.

‘Silly, you don’t need to,’ she said, smiling softly. ‘You’ve lived beside me. You are a part of me. You don’t need to use your powers to know what I am thinking about.’

The commander greeted me in the morning and asked about the prisoner, his voice brimming with impatience.

‘I am going to kill him in the main square to send a signal to the rest of the rebels,’ he said. ‘To show them what awaits if they do not give up the fight.’

‘I did not see anything of value,’ I replied. ‘I am not even sure he was the one who killed Bess.’

The commander sneered. ‘Your power must not be right after your sister died. I saw him, right as day, killing Bess and then turning to shoot at me—only he missed. And that was his mistake.’

I nodded. ‘Maybe I am too tired and need time for my powers to return in full.’

He patted me on the back reassuringly, and I shivered from his touch. After breakfast, I saw soldiers escorting the prisoner to the front yard, and something told me to come out. The vision I had last night was not letting me go; it was as if I still saw Bess in front of me, looking into my eyes. What was I really dreaming about? I didn’t dream of violence or bloodshed. Maybe I, too, yearned for peace, but I didn’t know how to achieve it. I was tired and desperate, and without my powers, I didn’t know who to trust anymore. I blamed myself for not inspecting the commander’s mind too closely when I still had a chance. Now, I was at a crossroads.

Pushed by an unknown force within me, I ran out to the front yard, and the soldiers stopped, looking at me inquisitively. The commander was there, too. The prisoner brooded; new bruises were blooming on his face—he had been beaten that morning.

‘I was not finished with him,’ I said. ‘I need to know why he killed my sister.’

Everyone was silent until the commander told me there was no time. ‘Rebels are killing people as we speak’, he said, ‘and we need to teach them a lesson’. All this time, I held the locket in my hand, and it felt hot, like it was burning. I wanted to let it go, but I couldn’t. The commander grew impatient with my silence and gestured to the guards to keep going.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ I said, and my voice sounded distant, like it no longer belonged to my body. I looked at the commander as if I still had my powers. As if I saw right through him.

He dismissed my remark and turned away. The soldiers tried to resume their pace, pushing the prisoner forward, but he refused to move. One of the guards punched him in the ribs, and he fell to the ground, letting out a cry. I took a few steps closer, and the commander warned me, ‘You better turn around and walk away before you regret it.’

I stood my ground, the locket in my hand keeping me calm. The commander pulled out his gun and added, ‘You don’t win the war with dreams. You win by killing.’ And then he shot.

Bess was there with me as I fell to the ground. She was caressing my face again, and I heard myself gasping for air and struggling to find it. My body was on fire, and there was a swarm of people around. The last thing I saw before it all became dark was Bess’s locket hanging from her beautiful neck. My last thought was about luck and how there wasn’t enough of it in the world.

When I woke up, I thought I was in another dream. Everything around me was white, covered in snow, until I realised I must be in a hospital room. I turned my head and saw someone sitting next to me. For a second, I wished it were Bess, but instead, it was the prisoner, except now his hands weren’t tied.

‘You’re awake,’ he said. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘What happened?’

Instinctively, I tried to use my powers to see into his memories of the past few days, but it didn’t work.

‘The soldiers shot the commander. It turns out they knew he killed Bess but were too scared to speak out.’

I winced from the pulsating pain in my temples. My whole body felt wooden, but I also felt relief wash over me.

‘Thank you,’ he says.

‘For getting shot?’ I asked, attempting humour again.

‘For trusting me, you know, without your power to prove it.’

I sighed and said:

‘It was harder than I thought.’