The Vanisher

If you have not read part 1 and 2 to this story, then please do so via the following link:

Part 1:

Part 2: By Rowan Finley

Applause dried to thin. Smoke on a draft. Elric's hands did not move, too still-conscious poised. Quill watched from behind the pretend bartop controls. That woman in red? Not in the show.

“Elana…” Elric spoke, voice as cold as the sea wind. He curled a brow, detached. Skeptical. “Good illusion. But I don't frighten EASY.”

She smiled like a closed door. “Then you haven't been paying attention, Master Vane.”

He nodded, turning his head to the side, edging in, slow and deliberate. “You staged your death. BRAVO. But crashing my ACT? That's a bit amateurish, don't you think?”

“I'm not here for show.” Her voice, smoky but cutting. “I'm here for the truth. And the debt you left smoldering.”

“Debt?” He laughed. “You took off, not ME.”

“You led me to it.”

The crowd was paralyzed between the excitement of drama and the doubt of reality skewing off. The captain struggled to his feet, but Elana snapped a card across the air—a queen of clubs. It drove into the wood at his feet.

Still carries the mark, Elric observed. But he didn't wince.

“Drama was your STRONG POINT, Elana,” he declared, sweeping his arm dramatically, palm a coin that wasn't there. “But this play is mine. I pen the last act.”

Quill's voice cracked in his earpiece. “Elric. She's in the system. Security grid's been breached. Cameras are OUT. Vault's closed. She's doing. something to the feed.”

“She's bluffing,” Elric breathed, eyes fixed on Elana.

And then she held up her purse like a club. Inside I could see a device pulsing counting down in silent seconds.

“You taught me The Art of the Reveal,” she said. “But you NEVER thought I'd rewrite the script.”

And then

The screens around the ballroom went dark. The air rippled. Time seemed to stumble.

“Ladies and gentlemen,”

Elana declared, her voice now booming from hidden speakers, “for my last trick tonight, I shall make TIME disappear.”

Gasps. Screams. Then silence.

The moment froze.

The guests—motionless. Waiters mid-step. Musicians paused mid-note. Even Quill, silent in the shadows.

Only Elric moved.

Because Elana allowed it.

He looked around, brows furrowed—but not panicked. “Alright,” he muttered. “You’ve got a NEW bag of tricks. Cuteee!!!”

The ballroom began to peel away like theater flats. The chandelier melted into firelight. The velvet curtains reappeared—burning. The stage was a perfect recreation of that night.

Elana stood under a ring of FIRE, wearing red, just as she had ten years before. Except now—her EYES weren't cloudy with wistfulness.

Merely purpose.

“This isn't real,” Elric told her. “Smoke & mirrors.”

“Well, love,” she told him, “everything's an illusion. But even illusions can HURT.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out an old playing card. Burned at the edges, warped, but unmistakable. A King of Hearts. She sent a playing card flying into the air.

It did not fall. It hung suspended in mid-air like a full stop in time.

“Nice trick,” said Elric, crossing his arms. “Now DROP it.”

“This is the trick,” she said. “And YOU, Elric, are still the fool who believes he's in command.”

The floor opened up under them—half darkness of obsidian, half blinding light.

“Choose,” she breathed. “You can STAY here in your flawless illusion. Or you can COME with me… and confront what you hid.”

Elric sneered. Arrogant. Rebellious.

“And if I jump?” Elric asked.

She leaned in, inches from his face.

“Then maybe,” she whispered, “you’ll finally learn what vanishing really MEANS.”

He hesitated for the first time.

Because he would not ALLOW someone else to write the script.

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To be continued...

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AUTHOR's NOTE:

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

Part-4 will be written by Rowan Finley and to find his profile, follow the link below: