Marked

The illustrious corsair, Leta Stengera, powdered her face one last time before entering the palace. Her partner, Drake Ravanoff, briefed her on their mission.  

“Remember,” Drake said, “our timestamp is 001259. The orbital celebration is underway. If we get too close to the timestamp, abort and return to the ship.”

Leta grinned and asked, “And what is our current timestamp? I wanted to try and enjoy the celebrations.”

Drake pulled a tiny clock from his pocket. “001237. We don’t have time to celebrate.”

“We never do.” There was a hint of despair in her breath.

The couple strutted up the marble staircase to the ballroom. The palace steward welcomed them with a bow as they reached the entrance. He wore a sharp velvet tuxedo and greeted the couple. “Good evening, my Lord and Lady. Whose presence am I graced with this evening?”

“Guillermo Octaban and this is, as you should know, the marvelous Lady Canto.” A maroon mist emanated from Leta’s palm as Drake finished the fake introduction. She blew a kiss towards the attendant, covering him with stardust. Enchanted, the man opened the door, beaming a wide grin. “Of course, welcome! Do enjoy the festivities.”

Once inside, Drake reminded her of their objective, “I don’t want to harp the importance of payment, but this contact of ours is persistent—”

“Yes, yes. I know Drake. Get in, grab Arlamant’s Ruby, and get out. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Well, I’m trying to ensure it’s not your last.” 

“Don’t worry darling, go grab a drink. I’ll meet you by the hors d’oeuvres.”

Drake rechecked the clock. “Make it quick.”

His departure prompted the dissipation of all calmness. Leta found herself near the end. The job was easy—a simple pickpocket. Arlamant’s Ruby is perhaps the score of the century, and maybe, just maybe, it might buy her enough time.

She referenced the mark on her arm. Slowly, she lifted the sleeve of her dress and looked at the timestamp that bled black on her arm. 001242. Time is running out.

She hinted at this notion once before. The idea that her mark is a direct link to their jump coordinates, a.k.a. the timestamp, became a reality. But as he typically does, Drake dismissed her claims and stood firm in his belief that if they kept searching, they would unlock his clock’s secrets and save her. Leta found his zeal for her to be romantic, yet in some ways, most ways, it was pure devotion to her. She loved that about him.

With the timestamp fast approaching, she moved toward the Governess. From across the room, Leta could spot the Ruby from a parsec away. She maneuvered her way through the dancing couples and grabbed hands with a stranger. The man was plump and balding. She noticed the chain of a pocketwatch protruding out of his pocket. She thought of Drake. She thought of an eternity with him. It killed her.

The music shifted as she waltzed with the man and twirled to face her new partner. It was the Governess. Leta moved close and spoke directly in her ear. “Give me the jewel.” She moved her hand up the woman’s back and snapped in her opposite ear. It was a deafening sound that only the Governess could hear. With her equilibrium off and nearly faint, Leta struggled to prop the tall yet slender woman up. It made snatching the Ruby effortless. She signaled help from the stewards in the ballroom as she pocketed her treasure.

With the task complete, she once again referenced her arm. 001250. Is it worth it? That was the question plaguing her mind.

She glided towards Drake. As she approached, she rekindled the smile she often forced around him. She knew there was no mending the clock, no matter how much the ruby was worth.

Leta slipped her arm across Drake's back, startling him, which caused his drink to spill on the bar.

“Damnit!” He motioned toward the bartender and flipped him some coin. “For your trouble.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I hope everything is alright.”

“I’m fine—” he stopped. She glimmered with fluoresce, and the moment took him over. He looked outside and saw the Sun creep closer. It was only a matter of time before its rays took their toll on his beloved. He grabbed Leta by the wrist and headed for the doorway.

The ballroom slowed as he shoved through the crowd. Leta fought him.

“We have to go.”

Leta stumbled behind; her fingers interlocked with his. She knew what was coming.

“Wait, Drake.”

He swiftly turned, anger written on his face. “We are out of time, Leta!”

He bumped into every person in his path with no remorse. Suddenly, he felt her drift away. His shoulders slumped. “Leta, please. It’s our only chance!”

She stared at him, torn by his motives. There was nothing that could prompt her to go with him. The shadows of the palace windows sliced her face. Tears plunged down her cheeks.

“Leta,” Drake implored, “We have to go.”

“I’m not going. I’m done running.” She threw the Ruby to the ground. “I’m the one who’s out of time, not you.”

To her surprise, a hand reached out and pulled her close. Drake lifted his head, fighting back the tears. “Leta, I can’t lose you.” Drake displayed a vulnerability Leta waited an eternity to see. Their eyes locked, and for a second, they both were at peace. She held his face, and nuzzled his chin with her nose. “Look at me.”

He did as she instructed, against his better judgment. His face drooped as each teardrop welled in his eyes.

“I’ll be with you always.” She wrapped his hand over hers, touching his chest; the beat of his heart slowed with each passing breath. 

Drake’s hands began to sweat. He clenched the small clock, tightening his grip. Leta motioned for him to relinquish it to her.

Dumbfounded, he glanced at the clock and back to her. “I can’t do this alone.” 

She nodded, smiling. “You won’t have to.”

He reluctantly surrendered his prized clock, and she placed it in her dress sash. Then, content with his decision, she issued a decree. “I would like a dance.”

“Leta!”

The guests nearby raised their brows as his outburst annoyed them. He shifted to her side, and in a last-ditch effort, he begged, “Please, come with me. Don’t do this.” She beamed and flicked her hand towards the band, and a dash of magenta stardust flew from her fingertips. As the sparkles settled around the musicians, they became enthralled and began playing a new song.

“Do you remember this?” Leta asked as she took Drake's hand placing his arm around her waist.

Drake shuddered. It was the harmonics they shared the night they met— eons ago. He couldn’t hide his sadness. He gazed upon her, twirling her body to the rhythm of the stringed instruments. “Of course, I remember.”

She rested her head on his chest, and the two swayed to and fro, unphased by the incoming wrath.

“Do you think it will hurt?” he asked.

She raised her head and met his eyes. The ground beneath them started to shake. The walls began to crumble, and the glass from the windows shattered. The ballroom entered a frenzy as guests turned to ash, and the light flashed through the room.

Drake waltzed Leta to the middle of the ballroom, avoiding the chaos, clinging to the shadows. Leta noticed the music stopped, so she flicked a crimson sparkle over the band to enjoy her last song. She closed her eyes, and serenity draped around her. Leta held tight to Drake, who, unable to look down on her, watched as the building around them collapsed. Brick by brick, mortar by mortar, everything came crashing down.

The band played on, mesmerized by Leta’s spell even with the tapestries flaring behind them. As burning bodies turned to ash, Drake hoped he’d made the right decision.

“Was it worth it?”

Gleaming, Leta replied, “I made the best of a bad deal.”

He sank again, not wanting to believe it was almost over.

“Drake, I can’t go back and change the past—”

“But we can!”

“The clock is not the answer, Drake. I wanted more with you, but not on the run. Not chasing something we thought might give us a solution. I wanted more trips across the nebulas, more freedom not bound by a timeline— more moments like this, with you, not worried about tomorrow.”

“I can give that to you if you just come with me—”

She placed a finger to his mouth, closing off his speech. “I’m out of time.” His eyes glossed as he felt the light burning her skin. She grimaced at the sight of her burning arm but resisted the pain of her present reality. “I love you, Drake.”

Her hands and arms crumbled to dust, and the band burst into an inferno. She collapsed towards the ground. Unmarked by the Netherworld, Drake held what was left of her as the fire licked her dress.

She was gone, and so was the palace around them. With Drake in a pool of shattered dreams, Leta’s body, reduced to ash, rested in the rubble. He punched the ground where she once lay.

He raised his fist, noticing the glass and blood. He sifted through Leta’s remains and found the clock. Drake lifted it to the light of the Sun, swiveling the object in his hand. All he sought was some understanding. He turned the clock in his hand, and the light refracted against the face of the clock. And then the item transformed. The dial and internal wheels manifested into a new device. Out of its center, the device projected an image.

“Drake.”

Leta’s image stood as if she was still with him, her body translucent.

“Leta? But how? Where are you?”

“I’m here.” Outstretching her arm and pointing toward him, she flew through his chest, swirled around him, and disappeared into the base of the new clock.

“Wait! How can I reach you?”

“Look into the light. That’s all you ever had to do.”