The Final Act

For Astonies, magic is both a gift and a curse: every use gradually deteriorates their health until they face the Final Act—a fiery, spontaneous combustion in which their magic consumes the very bodies it has ravaged as fuel.

Cat, the number-one Astony, seems to have 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 what it means to live with permanent disability or face literal death.

On the verge of losing the love of her life, Lena—a Retired Astony—joins a research trial aimed at reversing the harmful effects of magic. But when the medication backfires, Lena must decide: how far will she go to save the man she loves?

Arie’s dreams come true when she begins her medical residency as a doctor for the Astonies. But the relentless pressure of training and the cruel truth of the Final Act shake her deepest convictions. Will she stand by, or find the courage to speak out against the system she’s trained to serve?

These intertwined stories (think Never Let Me Go meets Children of Blood and Bone) grapple with acceptance, sacrifice, heroism, love, disability, and death. 

Arie was six years old the first time she saw someone commit the Final Act. Her daddy 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 slipped her hand into his.

Of course he had parked as far away as possible. Cars circled the busy lot, their shrill horns beeping as people fought over the same spots. She hardly noticed the cold wind nipping at her exposed cheeks as she tugged on her daddy’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.

He grimaced. Her eyebrows knitted together as she followed his gaze to the opposite side of the parking lot, where a few protesters were blockading the way into the mall. The tiny 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 daddy hated the Revelationists. She dared a quick peek at his face. A vein pulsated in his temple, and he was muttering under his breath. What if he started shouting at them again? Or, even worse…

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

Her eyes widened, her lower lip sticking out. She had been waiting to meet Simone West for forever—like, a whole month—and she had already told all of her friends back home about it. Fantasies of their envious faces as she showed them her signed cards and the photos of her and Simone West popped like balloons in a heat wave.

The bunched muscles around her daddy’s shoulders loosened. He kneeled in front of her and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Then he hugged her, kissing 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. She slipped on a piece of black ice, and he righted her before she fell; the snow she had reveled in yesterday was only a hindrance today. His grip tightened into a vise as cars weaved around them. But at long last, they made it to the end of the endless parking lot.

A narrow street and trolley station separated them from the mall. She pushed the button for the stoplight, waving to the tiny toddler standing with his father on the other side. As she waited for the icon of the walking man, she glanced at a young woman standing several feet away. Her bright pink hair poofed up from beneath blue headphones, and a fuzzy black boot tapped to music only she could hear. Arie’s eyes lit up.

“Daddy, look!” Arie pulled on his 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 moment later, a burst of wind knocked her onto her side, wrenching her hand out of her daddy’s. Dry air and leaves blew 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.

The boy’s father ran over and plucked the child out of her arms.

“Oh, thank you,” he cried. “I turned my back for just a moment, I swear…”

The woman nodded, panting too hard to answer. Strands of curly pink hair streamed across the deep circles bagged under her eyes. Arie struggled to stand as the boy’s 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. This time, Arie grabbed her daddy’s leg to keep from falling. Mid-motion, the woman’s 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. Her ears plugged a little, her breaths echoing through her head. The taste of burning skin made her stomach roll and bile rise in her throat. She tried to scream, but ash coated her tongue.

She blinked, clearing out her eyes. Two black rubber footprints etched the sidewalk, the only hints that a young woman with pink hair had once existed. Those, and the ruined blue headphones.

Her daddy scooped her up and sprinted back to the car. Terrified, she glanced up at him, only to see his lips sucking down quick breaths of air. The whites showed all around his eyes. He threw her into the passenger seat, not bothering to buckle her seatbelt.

Just before the door slammed shut, she caught a glimpse of the father’s silhouette as he huddled over his son. His tattered clothes had almost burned away.

Arie’s daddy peeled out of the parking lot. Sirens screamed in the distance, the pitch intensifying as the emergency vehicles raced toward the scene. When the car swerved, Arie cried out as she tumbled against the door.

Her tears blurred the edges of the cop cars and fire trucks hustling past. She twisted to watch through the back windshield as they gathered around the smoking street; she tried to understand what had just happened. Could she, too, suddenly burst into flame?

Her daddy would know. He knew everything.

“Daddy!” Arie yelled.

He 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.