Flux Wanderrift's Arc

Chapter 7 of 18

Flux stopped one step from the seam. The council's fold shimmered ahead, dotted with cold lights. Then a memory bit harder than the swarm. The council knew Flux by name. They had warned every guard, every door. The secondary vault had spelled it out in the woven threads. The instant Flux crossed, the council would see them and slam every path shut. Flux stepped back from the door. "Move or don't," said a flat voice behind them. "You're blocking the dust." Celestine sat where she always sat, spine straight, not a hair loose. She had shared this gray space since the day she pulled Flux off a prison floor. Neither of them thanked the other for anything anymore. She looked at the open seam, then at Flux. "You're going in as yourself. They'll know your face before you finish a sentence." "I know," Flux said. "Then fix it." She rose and crossed to the rolled rug. "Where I come from, no one crosses a border wearing their own face. You borrow one." She glanced at the swarm in Flux's palm. "That thing copies patterns." Flux looked down at the flea-swarm. Its tiny bodies had worn Flux's own face once, mirroring them at the vault. It could copy anything it studied long enough. "It reads maps," Flux said. "Faces are just patterns too." Celestine did not smile. "Now you understand borders." Flux held the swarm up to Celestine. "Read her," they told it through a bite that stung into words. "Wear her, not me." The swarm rippled. Its shifting grin narrowed. It studied Celestine's sharp cheeks, her pale crest of hair, her level stare. Then it poured across Flux's shoulders and face. Thousands of tiny legs settled into a new mask. The uncanny mirror-face was gone. In its place sat Celestine's poised features, cold and unknown to the council. Celestine studied the copy. "Close. My chin is worse than that." She stepped back. "They've never warned a guard about me. I'm nobody to them. Wear it and walk in slow." Flux touched their new borrowed cheek. The fleas held firm. On their shoulder, the jester tilted its head and chattered, unsure who it rode. "It's still me," Flux told it. The jester's three eyes narrowed, then it grinned. "Don't lose my face in there," Celestine said. She sat back down and looked away, done with the topic. Flux turned to the seam. The council waited beyond, ready for Flux Wanderrift. They would meet a stranger instead. Flux rolled the rug tight, gripped the jester, and stepped through wearing a borrowed name. The fold closed behind them. No alarm rang. No door slammed. A guard near the entry glanced up, saw a calm, unknown face, and looked away. Flux stood inside the council's meeting place, unrecognized. The disguise held. But now they were alone among their enemies, with a face that was not their own to keep.