Cirque Periculum

Chapter 24.2

Mr. Summertin scribbled the runes as fast as a madman, activating them as he went. He was so close to his prize. He could already feel it in his hands. Power coursing through his body. It was almost his.

Killing the boy was a regrettable decision, but one that had to be made. The poor child had no idea what he stood in the way of. Just another sacrifice for the greater good, he thought to himself as he finished his final rune.

Just as he stood up, he heard Meridian. "Connor, leave me. You don't deserve this."

He jerked his head to see Connor floating above Meridian's platform, about to touch her.

"No." Mr. Summertin cursed under his breath and without hesitation jumped onto his still-forming bridge to the mirror. If Connor touches her before he touches the mirror, it could be all over. He would lose.

And Mr. Summertin did not lose.

He glanced over again just as the platform dropped. Meridian, glowing a sickly blue from head to toe, light beaming from her eyes and mouth. One second there, the next she had disappeared in the light of the abyss.

For a moment, the sight made him stop dead in his tracks. "No," he said. "NO! Meridian!"

Yet another sacrifice... for the greater good.

The thought fueled his movements, propelling him towards the mirror. In a way, Meridian had always been one of the biggest roadblocks in his hunt for the mirror. Maybe not Meridian herself, but his love for her often stood in conflict with his search for the Alchemist.

Do you value power more than the life of one you love? What had he become?

Light from the abyss grew brighter, seemingly crawling up the empty void to consume Mr. Summertin and anything else in its path. Then he was there- standing on the metal platform, merely a couple feet from the mirror.

Its beautiful. Mr. Summertin thought, taking another step towards it. Its surface glimmered softly, reflecting Mr. Summertin's own face back at him. Greedy. Hungry. Eager. The structure holding his reflection was intricate, embedded with emeralds and mixed with intricate veins of silver.

The light was upon him now, blinding him almost completely, eating at his flesh.

He grabbed the mirror with no further hesitation, his stomach lurching as POP! the light turned to blackness.

Having fallen to the ground, his eyes began to adjust the same time as he registered his other senses again. The smell of saltwater. The feeling of sand in his otherwise empty hands. The sound of lapping water. He propped himself onto his hands and knees, eyes adjusting enough for him to search for the mirror. But it was not with him. Gone.

"No. It can't be," Mr. Summertin muttered, looking around desperately. "It was right there. I touched it. Where is it?"

Looking inland towards the looming structure of Alcatraz, words appeared before his eyes in angry crimson letters. IF YOU ARE SO WILLING TO BETRAY ONE YOU LOVE, HOW MUCH MORE LIKELY YOU ARE TO BETRAY ME, ONE YOU CLAIM TO LOVE, FOR THE PROSPECT OF GREATER POWER. YOU ARE NOT FIT TO BEAR THE MIRROR.

Mr. Summertin screamed in rage. Rage of being so close only to fail. Rage from losing Meridian. He had not only failed, but he had failed her. It was over. He had lost everything.

He stopped screaming, allowing his ears to pick up another noise. From the circus's encampment. Shouts and explosions filled the air. He turned, watched as a massive ship approached shore.

His brother had arrived.