Behind the Magician

The theater smelled of sawdust and candle wax, the air thick with anticipation. From the wings, Elias Voss watched the crowd—their wide eyes, their parted lips, their desperate hunger to believe in the impossible. He adjusted his cuffs, the silk gloves hiding the scars that ran like secrets up his forearms. Fools, he thought. They’ll never look behind the curtain.

Act One: The Illusion

The spotlight hit him like a blade. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he boomed, spreading his arms. "Prepare to witness miracles—or perish doubting them!"

A gasp as he plucked a silver coin from a child’s ear. A scream as he vanished a woman from her seat, only to reappear her, laughing, in the balcony. But the grand finale—the Pièce de Résistance—was the Floating Dagger.

Elias unsheathed a blade, let the audience inspect it. Then, with a whisper, he released it. The dagger hung midair, tip glinting, as if held by a ghost. The crowd roared.

No one noticed his gloved pinky twitch. No one saw the nearly invisible wire, thinner than spider silk, threaded from the rafters to his ring.

Act Two: The Cost

Backstage, Elias wrenched off the gloves. His hands shook. Blood seeped through the fabric where the wire had sawed into his flesh.

"You’re pushing too hard," murmured Liora, his assistant—his only confidante. She dabbed his wounds with whiskey. "The Dagger almost failed tonight."

Elias gritted his teeth. "It didn’t."

"It will." She pressed closer. "The Society is watching. If they suspect you’re losing control—"

"—they’ll replace me. I know."

The Society of the Veiled Hand: a cabal of magicians who guarded the oldest, darkest tricks. Elias had sold his soul to join them. Now, he was drowning in the debt.

Act Three: The Secret

Three nights later, a letter arrived. Black wax, no stamp.

"The Dagger is ours. Perform it one last time—or forfeit your hands."

Elias burned the note. He had no choice. He’d stolen the Dagger from a dead man’s act years ago. Now, the dead wanted repayment.

Act Four: The Betrayal

The theater was packed. Elias’s pulse hammered as he reached the finale. He raised the dagger—

—and the wire snapped.

The blade clattered to the stage. Silence. Then, laughter.

Liora’s face paled. From the shadows, a figure in a raven mask nodded. The Society’s enforcer.

Elias fled to his dressing room. The mirror showed a stranger: sweat-slick, wild-eyed. Then, the reflection winked.

He spun. No one there. But on the desk lay a single card—the Ace of Spades, his trademark.

Except he hadn’t put it there.

Act Five: The Truth

Liora found him gripping the card. "We have to run," she said.

Elias turned it over. On the back, in blood-red ink:

"The greatest trick is making them believe you are the magician."

The walls breathed. The candle flames stretched toward him like pleading hands. And Elias remembered:

The accident ten years ago. The botched Bullet Catch. The way his mentor, Aldric, had died onstage—but not before whispering the Society’s true name into Elias’s ear.

They weren’t just illusionists.

They were recruits.

Act Six: The Revelation

The door burst open. The enforcer stepped in, removing his mask.

Aldric’s face stared back—unaged, unharmed.

"You were the trick all along," he said.

The Ace of Spades burst into flames. The theater melted like wax. And Elias finally understood:

He’d never left the stage.

The audience—the real audience, the Veiled Ones who fed on wonder—leaned in from the dark, their teeth glinting.

And the curtain fell.