Alister
I stare down at the picture Clara sent me—a photo of a creased paper with the same message scrawled on it. She got one too and asked me to see what Lev knows about it.
I wondered if I should tell her how to track the sender. But now that I'm here, parked at the edge of a desolate, wind-beaten construction site, I'm glad I didn't.
The moment I realized the plane was leading me toward the half-finished bones of a shopping mall—scaffolding jutting into the sky like broken ribs—I knew it was a trap.
"You sure you're not taking me?" Lev asks as I rest my hand on the car door handle. I made him go back to his crow form so I can lock him in his cage.
I simply shut the door, holding the plane close to me, and stare out at the structure, the wind pulling a torn plastic sheet across the exposed frame like a curtain hiding something rotten.
After scaling the metal fence, I make my way to the side where one of the first-floor windows gapes open. I duck inside, landing in a crouch on cold, dusty concrete.
I let go of the plane and follow it towards the staircase, past concrete pillars and coils of wire spilling from the walls like veins ripped open. My boots creak on the first step as I begin to climb. Upon reaching the top, I almost fall back at the sight in front of me.
There, standing just a few feet away, is a lion.
It's made entirely of folded paper. A thousand complex creases form its shape, yet it moves with the heavy grace of a living predator. I notice that its teeth aren't paper. They're shards of broken glass, gleaming and jagged, jutting from its mouth like it bit through a mirror and decided to wear the pieces.
I hold my ground and raise my hand incase it decides to attack.
The lion's head lifts, tracking the plane as it flutters right over its back and deeper into the second floor. Then, without a word, it turns and starts trailing it.
I blink once, then carefully walk behind it. As we round the corner, my jaw drops at the scene before me.
The space opens up into what will be an atrium or open lobby. At the far end of the hall, nestled against a cracked wall, stands a throne—constructed entirely out of layered folded paper.
Beneath it, stationed in a semi-circle like loyal beasts, are six large paper wolves. Their jaws twitch, made of curling folds and lined with the same glass shards. Four paper tigers and three more lions flank infront of the throne.
But that's not all.
Even in the shadows tucked between pillars and scaffolding, I feel movement. Not the kind made by rats or insects.
Lounging lazily atop the throne is a young girl. She has a brown blunt bob cut with uneven bangs brushing just above her dark eyes, giving her the appearance of someone younger than she probably is—but there's nothing childish about her expression.
She's wearing a white striped shirt tucked into denim shorts, black leggings, and worn sneakers dangling off the armrest of the throne. She holds the paper plane in one hand as eyes raise up to meet mine. A slow, knowing smirk curls her lips.
Ah, I see. This—all of this—is a show. Not just the throne, not just the beasts—it's her announcement.
"Must've been hard gathering this much paper in one place," I say dryly, letting my eyes skim over the origami. "And all for me. I'm flattered."
She lifts her hand. "All it takes is a snap of my fingers."
Snap.
The lion in front of me disintegrates, the paper unraveling and floating down in swirls before reshaping midair into dozens of butterflies. They flutter towards her like trained birds and settle atop the throne.
Show-off.
"So you're the one who has Crow," she says casually.
I knew it.
To her, Lev is the only one who could have told me the way to send back the paper creation. After the events at the mansion, it was clear that crows were involved. These people must have connected the dots of Lev's disappearance to the theft that took place.
They might be looking for him.
"Is that why you wanted to meet me here?" I ask cautiously. "To get the bird back?"
She blinks once. Then bursts into laughter. Not mocking—more like I've said something genuinely absurd.
"Of course not!" She says, wiping away a tear. "Why would I care about that filthy bird? I honestly thought he was dead when he went missing. We all did."
I see now where Lev stands among his people.
I shift my stance slightly. "Then this must be about your message," I say, probing. "Because it almost seems like… you're helping us."
The list of street names we were given. Clara and I came to the same conclusion that whoever sent this might be secretly helping us. They knew where she lived. Yet didn't take any action to capture her.
The girl smiles. "Yes, actually. I thought it was time I made contact with you two. To stop you kids from doing something stupid again."
I raise an eyebrow.
Kids?
She catches my expression immediately and groans, rubbing her temple like she's had this argument a thousand times. "I'm twenty-six. And yes, I'm aware of the fact that I look way younger. As a fellow artifact user, you must know about the side effects. Mine just tampered with my growth spurt. Froze it, basically, since I was fourteen."
Doesn't that mean she's been used since she was a kid?
"Was it worth it?" I ask.
Her smile is immediate. She rises from the throne and walks down the steps. The lions move out of her way as she steps onto the concrete floor.
"Look at everything I can do with this power," she says, gesturing to the whole room. "I'd say… my appearance, my body—was a fair price for it."
I want to tell her that's ridiculous. That she shouldn't have had to sacrifice something so fundamental just to gain power.
But then I remember myself. The rush of using my own powers. The times I pushed my body beyond its limits, knowing the cost and doing it anyway. I can't call her out without being a hypocrite.
Then her tone changes. Slightly colder. "The man with the compass and his group. And the ones who were said to be bringing in a new user few days ago. You're the one who killed everyone and destroyed the artifacts. Right?"
My jaw tightens. "How long have you been watching us?"
Crystal scoffs. "Not long. Just after your infiltration at that bureaucrat's mansion. You've been causing quite the ruckus, you know."
Then she lifts her hand and snaps her fingers again. The throne behind her unravels, collapsing in an elegant flutter like a tower of feathers. Before reshaping themselves into a round table and two chairs. All of it paper. Yet not flimsy.
She drops into one seat and gestures to the other. "Sit."
"I'll stand."
She smiles, clearly finding my caution amusing. Then, folding her hands on the table, she gets back to business. "When you killed those men days ago, there was an uproar. Surveillance was ramped up across the city. Everyone wanted to know who did it. The crow went missing too, but honestly? None of us cared. We figured it got itself killed. But tonight's event at that party with the flock of crows has made it apparently clear that someone has been using him. And to steal the goblet, no less."
We. Us.
She's careful not to reveal critical information about them. Bound by a contract, yet she still knows how to twist her words around it, unlike Lev.
Leora's voice slips into my head like a hiss of wind. "Don't tell her about the book or anything. She might be helping you for her own gain. The minute she gets what she needs, she'll attack you."
I already figured that much.
"How did you come to know about us?"
She shrugs with that same infuriating calm. "I have my ways."
I press. "Then tell me—if you've figured so much out, why are you here? Why help us instead of turning us in?"
Crystal pauses. Her fingers trail across the paper table, smoothing an invisible crease.
"My mistress ordered it," she says at last. "I don't know why. Or what she has in mind. But she's relentless. If it weren't for her constant interference, you two would've been caught a long time ago."
She glances up at me. "She must think you're getting out of hand if she sent me to deal with you."
"That still doesn't answer the real question." I say, voice flat. "I'm sure this mistress of yours isn't putting herself in danger out of the kindness of her heart. So what does she want?"
The girl nods slowly, like she's been expecting that question. "A favor."
I frown. "What kind of favor?"
The knit brows on her face tells me she doesn't know either and is being kept in the dark. "I don't know. She told me to say that. In exchange for her protection—keeping you and your friends safe—you owe her a favor. One day, when she calls for it, you fulfill it. No questions asked."
Someone putting herself in trouble just to conceal our identities. Someone on the enemy's side who doesn't want us caught. Someone who might want to use us for something later.
Is it someone we know? Because it sounds like it is. Why else go this far for people she supposedly knows nothing about?
"I'm just the messenger." Crystal continues. I came to you tonight for four things. One, to tell you which streets to avoid—those aren't safe right now. Two, to inform you about the favor you owe my mistress. Breaking the deal will only lead to consequences, and I think you already know that."
She holds up three fingers. "Three... to ask you what the hell you're up to. And whatever it is, stop it."
I stare at her, debating how much I can risk saying. She may be helping us, but she's still part of them. And I need to know who she really serves.
"Why are you doing this for your mistress, then? Shouldn't your loyalty be with your people?"
She looks down, fingers tracing idle lines on the paper table. "Because this is the favor she asked of me. To help her and keep her secret. I may be loyal to my people, but I'm more loyal to my word. I'm only doing this for her. What happens to you all doesn't concern me. If I had the chance, I'd turn you in right now."
Right… So I can't tell her anything then.
I cross my arms. "Then why should I tell you anything?"
She lets out a dry laugh. "You know, Crow's not the only one who knows how to plant spies. My little paper bees have been following you for a while now. They followed you when you left that apartment building with Crow. They followed that blonde girl and the biker guy when they met at the café."
Wait—what? Zach and Clara met at a café? Why? What were they talking about?
"They're still watching the sleepy one. And if I wanted to, I could find out what you're planning without asking. But I came here to talk—to keep this civil. Do you understand what that means?"
"Is that everyone?" I ask, suspicious. She didn't mention Stephanie.
She snorts. "That ponytail girl's the only one who caught the bee... mixed it in water and drank it."
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. Yeah. That checks out.
"Wait!"
That voice and the sound of wings flapping makes me grit my teeth.
We glance towards the direction of the staircase where the voice came from and see Lev flying into the space. He stops a great deal from where the paper beasts eye him hungrily as if they were real animals.
"How did you get out?" I demand, already dreading the answer.
Lev's voice is uneven, breathless from the flight. "Crystal let me out. Using those paper bits."
Why? I thought they didn't care about him.
Crystal's eyes are locked on him with a twisted smirk curling her lips, like she's been waiting for this exact moment. Waiting for him to walk right into her trap.
And he did.
I dig my hand into my pocket, my fingers closing around the controller. One push, and he'll drop. He should've stayed in the damn cage.
This naive, fumbling idiot.
"I know everything," Lev reveals, voice rising with urgency. "Everything they've been up to and more. Crystal, help me. Make him take the bomb out of me."
"I warned you this would happen!" Leora yells beside me. "I told you keeping him alive is a bad idea, but you never listened!"
The paper beasts respond to his voice—moving forward, their origami limbs rustling like dried leaves in the wind. The space seems to tighten around him.
In a blink, he shifts.
Feathers retract, bones twist, and his form stretches until a man stands in his place. His grey eyes search the room through his curtain of black hair, like a cornered animal.
Crystal's gaze trails over him for only a moment before she returns her attention to me.
"And the fourth thing I wanted to say," she says lightly, like she's delivering gossip over tea, "is to kill the crow. Even you must realize he's a liability now. They know whoever killed those men is using his ability to steal artifacts. You need to get rid of him."
"What?!" Lev cries at her, stunned. The desperation in his face crumbles. The betrayal lands heavy in his chest, visible in the way his shoulders stiffen, then sag, as if she had driven a blade in his chest.
Since I didn't show him what was written in the paper, incase he sends one of his crows there to alert them, he must have assumed it was a threat to me. And once she let him out of his cage, he flew up to her, thinking she might help him.
"His abilities are useful for scouting. He could alert us of oncoming danger." I say, digging my other hand into the pocket, feeling the metallic blade hidden.
"...why?" Lev's voice is quieter now. Cracked. He looks at her like she'd just kicked him after offering him a hand.
Crystal tilts her head. The kind of gesture cats make before they decide whether or not they'll kill the mouse. "Did you really think I was here for you?" she asks sweetly. "Did you forget that no one cares about you? Or... maybe your old owner does. Do you want to go back to her? Is this new owner not treating you as well as she did? No one to rip your feathers or scar you for days?"
Lev lowers his head. His fists shake at his sides, knuckles pale. The paper beasts circle closer, inch by inch.
"I can send you back. But I'd have to cut out your tongue." she coos, stepping down from her chair with her hands behind her back, watching him like a collector examining a broken toy. "Can't have you talking, now can we?"
He doesn't move or speak. Just clenches his jaw tighter.
"Although…" she taps a finger to her chin, thoughtful. "She might not want you back if you're mute. Your screams were probably half the fun for her, weren't they? Your voice always was your best—"
Thunk.
The blade sails past her face like a whisper of death, embedding deep into the far wall behind her. Just inches off.
Silence slams into the room like a crashing wave. Everyone stares at me.
I hold my palm forward and call the knife back. It trembles, dislodges, and rips through the air toward me in a smooth arc. I catch it easily as Crystal's paper begins crawl toward the wall—too late.
"I believe we were having a civil conversation," I glare as I remind her. "It's rude to ignore your guests after summoning them."