"A Redbearer… what's that?" Arke asked.
A car horn blared behind him. He turned to see his mom leaning out the window, motioning for him to hurry.
"Arke! You coming?" she called.
He looked back at Leev, who was already pulling his jacket sleeve down to hide the marks again.
"We talk tomorrow," Leev said, then turned and walked off, hands in his pockets like he hadn't just dropped a word heavy enough to crush Arke's thoughts flat.
Arke stood there for a second, staring after him, until his mom honked again.
* * *
The cafeteria buzzed with the usual noise—clattering trays, shouted jokes, the hum of numerous conversations at once. Arke spotted Leev in the far corner, away from the crowd, a can of soda in his hand and nothing else on the table.
Arke slid his tray down and sat across from him. "So. Redbearer," he said, just loud enough for Leev to hear.
Leev tapped the dark red mark on his forearm. "This is what makes you one."
"And that means what, exactly?" Arke said.
"You found the weapon, right?" Leev asked before taking a long sip of soda.
"The dagger?" Arke said.
"So yours is a dagger," Leev said with a slight nod. "It varies from person to person."
"Then everything's real," Arke muttered, almost to himself. "I'm not crazy."
Leev gave a short laugh through his nose. "That's exactly what I said when I found out."
Arke looked up at him. "How did you even know I found the dagger?"
"The Magician," Leev said simply.
Arke blinked. "Magician?"
"Yeah." Leev leaned forward a little. "He told me our school has a sentient weapon. And he was right. You need to see him."
"And how am I supposed to meet him?"
"It's better you hear everything from him than from me," Leev said, pulling a folded flyer from his pocket. He slid it across the table. "Tonight. Place and time are on there."
Arke unfolded the flyer:
THE MAGICIAN
Step beyond the ordinary.
Witness illusions that blur the line between what is seen and what is real.
Tonight, 8:00 PM
The Velvet Hall – 27 Ashvale Street
See the world as it truly is.
Arke held back a laugh at the dramatic lines. Still staring at the flyer, he said, "I'm not getting set up for a prank, am I?"
"You know I'm not the type," Leev said.
"Right," Arke muttered, then tucked the flyer into his pocket. "Okay. See you tonight."
* * *
Arke leaned against the taxi window, watching the city blur past in streaks of color and light. The car slowed, then stopped.
"This is the place. That'll be thirty eight," the driver said.
Arke pulled out his wallet, handed over the fare, and pushed the door open.
The street was alive, a narrow strip lined with small theaters, bars, and novelty shops. Neon signs buzzed overhead—some flickering, some glowing steady. A faint mix of music and chatter spilled from open doors, giving the whole block a restless kind of energy.
Then he spotted it: a squat, two-story building with a deep crimson sign.
The Velvet Hall
Tonight's Performer: The Magician
Arke crossed the street, and just outside the entrance of The Velvet Hall, Leev stood leaning against the wall, hands buried in his jacket pockets.
"You're late," Leev said as soon as Arke approached.
"Sorry, I had to plead with Mom to let me out," Arke said.
"You're already eighteen," Leev said. "Are you a mama's boy or something?"
"More like she's got trust issues," Arke shot back. "Can't blame her after… you know."
Leev gave a short snort, then pushed off the wall. "Come on."
At the entrance, a bored-looking usher sat behind a small podium, lazily tearing tickets. Leev pulled two from his jacket and handed them over without a word. The usher glanced at them, tore the edges, and waved them through.
Inside, the hall was dimly lit—larger than Arke expected, yet still intimate. Low tables with mismatched chairs filled the room, most occupied by small groups sipping drinks in hushed conversation. The air carried a faint mix of old wood and stage smoke.
On stage, a man with long white hair commanded the spotlight. His tailored coat caught the light as he moved, his hands a blur of precision as a deck of cards danced effortlessly between his fingers, each flick designed to draw the eye.
Leev and Arke slipped into a table near the back, just as the card trick reached its peak. The Magician flicked the final card into the air, caught it neatly between two fingers, and bowed with a flourish. A ripple of applause followed.
He grabbed the mic from its stand. "Let's try something fun," he said, his voice warm and confident. Then, without warning, he jumped off the stage and strode into the crowd.
His eyes landed on their table. "Hey, kid," he said, pointing the mic at Arke. "We haven't met before, right?"
Arke blinked. "Yes," he said, unsure how else to answer.
The Magician tapped a finger to his chin, thinking aloud. "Then let me guess… your name is…" He paused theatrically. "…Arke?"
The mic went back to Arke, who half-laughed. "Yes." He already knew Leev must have told him, but he played along anyway.
"You have a watch?"
"Yeah," Arke said, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't tell me the time," the Magician instructed. "It's… 8:25 PM?"
Arke checked his wrist. "Yes."
"You're eighteen," the Magician continued, "and this guy next to you is Leev."
"Yes," Arke said again, this time with a hint of sarcasm. "How'd you guess?"
"Well…" The Magician grinned. "That's magic." A few people chuckled.
"And you're a track and field runner," he added, "the kind who carries a digital watch to time your laps."
Arke gave a short laugh. "Yeah. I—" He started to raise his watch to show him again, but froze as the Magician lifted his own wrist.
"Does your digital watch look like this?"
Arke's exact watch gleamed on the man's wrist. The Magician raised his arm high, letting the audience see, and the room erupted in applause.
Arke stared, stunned. He knew it was sleight of hand, but knowing didn't make it any less impressive.
With a smooth turn, the Magician slipped off the watch, tossed it back to Arke, and vaulted onto the stage, already launching into his next illusion.
The show ran for about an hour, and to Arke's surprise, he actually found himself enjoying it. When the final trick ended and applause gave way to the shuffle of people leaving, the Magician stepped off the stage and made his way to their table. Without a word, he motioned for them to follow.
He led them through a side door near the stage into what looked like a backstage room.
"Grab a seat," he said, gesturing toward the chairs. Then he flipped one around and straddled it backward, resting his chin casually on his crossed arms over the backrest.
"So, you're Arke," he said, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Name's Sebastien. You can call me Basti. Some just call me the Magician."
"Nice to meet you," Arke said.
Basti tilted his head. "So… where do you want to start?"
"The dagger, maybe," Arke said.
"The sentient weapon," Basti corrected smoothly. "They show up in different places, always waiting for the one they're meant for. In your case, the dagger."
"Where did it come from?" Arke asked.
Basti's smile tilted, almost amused by the question. "That's the good part—I don't know. Not yet, anyway. But I do know this: it didn't come from Earth. Maybe not even from our universe."
He straightened in his chair, his tone sharpening just a little. "It's from somewhere else. Another dimension."
Arke stared at him, trying to process it all.
"It reached you late," Basti went on. "Just like Leev. Which means something was holding you back from hearing its call."
"In Leev's case," Basti said, "he has hemophilia."
"What's that?" Arke asked.
"A blood disorder," Leev answered, his tone flat, like he'd said it a hundred times before.
"And you?" Basti turned to Arke.
"My feet were paralyzed," Arke said.
Basti gave a single nod. "And now you're standing. Which means the weapon healed you. Just like Leev. The red marks on your arm—they're proof the weapon has bonded with you."
He pulled back his own sleeve, revealing the same dark red markings etched into his skin.
"We call ourselves Redbearers."
Arke's brows furrowed as the pieces tangled together in his head. "Does this have something to do with the Crimson Hour?"
Basti grinned, raised his hand like he was plucking something out of the air, and revealed a small nail resting between his fingers.
"You nailed it," he said, flicking the nail onto the table with a soft clink.
"I believe the Crimson Hour opens our world to another, darker dimension," Basti said, his voice losing some of its earlier playfulness.
"Have you wielded your weapon yet?"
Arke shook his head.
"You need to," Basti said, his expression sharpening. "As soon as possible."
"Why?" Arke asked.
Basti leaned forward slightly. "Have you seen the Reverse?"
"I think I did," Arke said quietly.
Basti laid out a deck of cards on the table. With a flick of his wrist, the colors bled away—white fading to gray, red sinking into black, and the faces twisting into warped, unrecognizable symbols.
"Where a sentient weapon appears," Basti said, his voice low, "that place is tied to the Reverse. And the Reverse always has something waiting in it—a creature born from it. Only the one who bonded with the weapon can cross over and kill it. In this case, you."
"Kill?" Arke's eyes widened.
Basti nodded once. "You have to kill it."
"And if I don't?" Arke asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Basti's gaze didn't waver. "Then everyone who's touched that place will die."