Page 207 of Gathered Sparkle

Koen produces his own coin and tosses it into the air, where it joins Levi’s, spinning side by side in perfect harmony. The crowd audibly reacts when more coins suddenly materialize out of thin air, some cascading from Levi’s hands while others appear between Koen’s fingers, all of them dancing through the night like a constellation brought to life. Koen and Levi interact with each other along the way, the two of them working together in a seamless dance of sleight and illusion.

The coins swirl faster, weaving through one another in impossible patterns. After a quick, shared smile, the twins shift, and the shimmering shapes gradually begin to align, forming two distinct shapes to create an emblem. An ‘O’ with an ‘L’ in the middle.

A literal glowing tribute to Oscar.

The symbol lingers, illuminated in the air like a beacon, the crowd staring on in silent awe.

After several long seconds of the illusion being broadcasted on the screens, there’s a faint shimmer, and the coins dissolve. Some scatter into mist, others explode into tiny, harmless sparks that drift down like glittering stardust.

As the last fragments fade into the night, a single intact coin remains. It floats downward gracefully, almost reverently, to land in Koen’s outstretched hand.

He holds it up, and with a quiet intensity that silences even the most awestruck murmurs, he says, “Two sides of one coin. Destiny calls.”

The crowd erupts into cheers, and even I can’t help but clap, my heart pounding.

Levi’s grin widens as Koen hands the coin to him, then he looks into the camera that projects his image onto the towering screen. “This one’s for you, Uncle Oscar,” he says softly, holding up the final coin, then he lets it vanish with a flick of his wrist.

The cheers swell, and my hands clench into fists at my sides, not out of anger or tension but from the sheer effort of keeping it together. The magic in the air feels too real, too overwhelming. It clings to my skin, and somewhere deep in my chest, I ache with the weight of loss—for a man I never knew, for the pieces of Ace and Sylus that still belong to him, for the way the twins’ grief radiates even as they dazzle the world.

I unclench my fists and rest my arms over Ace’s, where they still hold me, and glance up at him, finding his eyes fixed on the twins. There’s pride there, yes, but he looks like he’s carrying the same weight I feel.

But his shoulders are broader, stronger, steadier.

The crowd’s roar grows louder as Levi waves again, his grin spreading through them like wildfire, and I can’t help but wonder if they’ll ever understand what they’re really applauding.

This isn’t just a show.

It’s a promise.

A declaration.

And tonight is the start—and end—of something bigger than all of us.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Alaric

“Sometimes it spins, sometimes it falls.”Oscar flicks a coin into the air, and we watch how he spins it before it lands in his palm again.

When he opens his hand, it isn’t the coin anymore but a tiny, red bell.

Levi grins as he plucks it from Oscar’s hand, twirls it between his fingers, then tucks it into his hair like a makeshift ornament. “Festive enough for you, Uncle O?”

Oscar’s laugh is genuine, easing some of the tension in the room. “Perfect.”

The backstage lights buzz faintly, and the hum of the crowd is a low roar on the other side of the curtain. But back here, it’s thankfully almost quiet.

No press of bodies, no stuffy air. Just us.

Sylus shifts restlessly on the balls of his feet, a bundle of nervous energy. Levi and Koen stand shoulder to shoulder. Levi lightly wiggles in his white glittering suit, while Koen is more subdued but intimidating in black, but the way he plays with the rose charm on his necklace shows how anxious he is as well. Two sides of a coin, as their uncle likes to call them.

Ezra leans against a crate, arms crossed, his eyes locked on Oscar, who stands at the center, calm as ever.

The steady anchor in our storm. But tonight…

Something feels off.

His eyes sweep over us like they always do, but for a second, something slips in his gaze. Something tired.

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