Morthisal's thread slithered into his own consciousness. For a heartbeat, his mind was overwhelmed with sensation. The hollow ache of watching Yvette's SUV disappear around the corner, the crushing weight of his lost empire. The emotions belonged to him. Instead of suppressing them, the thread twisted deeper, anchoring these feelings to the surface of his thoughts, making them immediately accessible.

  With what could be his future career in Hollywood on the line, Morthisal opened his eyes, turned to Serena, and took on the role of the father that Levi had challenged him with. He took her hands in his. Then spoke, his voice softer than usual.

  "I know you're ready for this. I know you've been ready for months." He paused, and something genuine crept into his tone. A weight he hadn't intended. "But I am not. I am not ready to watch you drive away. To see your room empty. To eat in a house that is too quiet."

  His voice cracked slightly. He didn't plan it, and the sound caught him off guard.

  "You shall do amazing things. I know that. I have always known that." The emotions felt real and raw now. "But I need you to know... I need you to know that you can always come home. That there will always be a place for you here. With me."

  His eyes stung, and actual moisture gathered at the corners.

  "I am so proud of you," Morthisal whispered, looking down. "Even if I am terrible at showing it."

  The act lasted close to a minute. The thread evaporated, and he was left with the hollow ache of loss he had just exhibited to the quiet onlookers.

  It quickly faded.

  Serena's face had transformed. Her hands were still in his. He let go. She rubbed her arm and looked around. "Goosebumps. I have literal goosebumps."

  Then someone started clapping. Slowly at first, then others joined in.

  Morthisal blinked rapidly to clear his vision and fought back a smug and self-satisfied grin. He had never thought to use his power in this manner. Around him, they gazed. Like the sycophants who had once graced his court. They studied him with a combination of hunger and unease. Some would see him as a genuine talent. Others as a threat to their future roles. Let them. Let them all bask in the glow that was Morthisal.

  Levi Blackwood stared at him with an expression Morthisal couldn't quite read.

  "Well," Levi said finally. "Extraordinary. Simply extraordinary."

  Jordan uncrossed her arms. Her expression had shifted from cool assessment to genuine interest.

  "Not gonna lie, I'm impressed," she said quietly. "We should really talk. I'll bump a few things around. If your audition goes as well as this, we can meet as early as Friday."

  Before he could answer, a woman Morthisal didn't recognize approached. She had silver hair cut in a severe bob and wore all black. Her eyes were sharp, calculating.

  "Excuse me. That was quite a performance," she said. "I'm Diane Mercer. I cast for Netflix, Amazon, and a few other streamers." She handed him a business card. "You're going to be a hot commodity soon, Mr. Logan. Call my office. I'm working on something that might interest you. We'll get you away from that Marty Klein. You don't have an exclusive, do you?"

  Morthisal shook his head. Diane breathed a loud sigh of relief. "You dodged one."

  Jordan's face flushed as Diane Mercer walked away, and she said under her breath, "snake."

  More people approached. A producer. A director. Someone's assistant who promised to pass along his information. The attention felt surreal. Serena took his hand in her own and tugged, "Come on. Let's get out of here."

  They practically fled downstairs, Serena dragging him to the bar. A few phone cameras flashed. When they were back at the bar and Serena had a chance to order them a couple of fresh drinks, he took a breath.

  "That was overwhelming. Why has so simple a performance elicited such a reaction?"

  "Vince. You already had a lot of buzz. The trailer is hot, though few still recognize you out of your makeup. You were linked to Yvette Sterling for God's sake. These people will jump on anything that goes even remotely viral."

  "Ah," Morthisal said, disappointed that the attention hadn't strictly been due to his performance.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  A phone chimed. Then another. Within seconds, half the room was checking their devices.

  Someone said. "It's already online."

  "What is?"

  Serena held up her phone. The video of his performance was already circulating on Twitter. The caption read: "Alleged former boyfriend of Yvette Sterling, and Dark Realms villain, shows shocking emotional range at Hollywood party. This guy can ACT."

  Morthisal's fresh drink arrived. He shoved aside the tiny umbrella and drank it in one long guzzle, then waved toward a server who took the glass. Serena apologized and turned to another actor, who Morthisal thought had been in one of her movies. Charles something or other. The man smiled and shook Morthisal's hand.

  Morthisal politely excused himself and headed toward what he hoped was a bathroom. The hallway was mercifully empty and quiet. He found it, walked inside, closed, and locked the door.

  The bathroom could have housed a small family. Black-and-white hexagonal tiles covered the floor in a dizzying pattern. A freestanding bathtub sat beneath a window that overlooked the city lights. It was so clean it sparkled. The mirror above the sink stretched from counter to ceiling, framed in brushed gold that matched the fixtures. Even the soap dispenser looked expensive, burnished with the name of some designer brand Morthisal didn't recognize, shaped like a small sculpture of an angelic child.

  The first thing he did was pull out his cell phone and call Yvette. After a half dozen rings, she answered.

  "Hello?"

  "Apologies, Yvette. Were you sleeping?"

  "Sort of. I was drifting in and out."

  "What I would not give to be there with you. I am surrounded by sycophants."

  "What? Oh. You went to that Hollywood party. What do you-" her voice stopped.

  "Yvette?"

  Yvette hit him with rapid-fire questions. "Just a sec. My name is popping up all over social media. Wait. So is yours. What's going on? Oh. There's a video. Is that Serena Winter? Are you doing a skit? Why is my name…oh. Wow. Hold on a minute. I need to turn on a light."

  Morthisal waited.

  He looked at his reflection in a decorative mirror. The white streak would look much better if his hair were longer.

  "Okay," Yvette said finally. "I'm watching it…and…hold on… Wow! That was intense."

  "It was a test. The host challenged me to perform without preparation. I had no warning."

  "Right. A test." A pause. "With Serena Winters."

  Morthisal frowned at the tone in her voice. "She invited me to the party. For networking purposes. I met a potential agent."

  "I'm sure she did." Another pause, longer this time. "She's very beautiful."

  "She is an attractive woman, I will not lie."

  "Vince." Yvette's voice had gone flat. "You're holding her hands in the video. Looking into her eyes. Getting emotional."

  "In the performance. I was portraying a father—"

  "I know what you were portraying. I'm watching it." Yvette exhaled slowly. "And every comment is about how much chemistry you two have. How you should be in a movie together. How perfect you look as a couple."

  Morthisal's jaw tightened. "The comments of strangers mean nothing to me."

  "But they mean something to Hollywood, don't they? Isn't that the whole point of this?" Her voice softened slightly. "Look, I'm not...I'm not trying to be that person. I just...she's an Oscar winner. She's in your world now. And I'm up here running a company." Yvette sighed. "It's not like we are exclusive or anything. Until a week ago, I thought we were done. But I want us to…um…to be something. Am I making sense?"

  "Yvette." Morthisal kept his voice steady. "Serena Winters is a professional contact. Nothing more."

  "Is that what she thinks?"

  "I have no idea what she thinks. Nor do I care." He paused. "You are the only woman I wish to be with. The only one whose absence creates that hollow ache I used in my performance tonight."

  Silence on the other end.

  "Yvette?"

  "That's...that's a pretty good line, Vince."

  "It is not a line. It is the truth." Morthisal touched the white streak in his hair. "I would not have been able to access those emotions without thinking of you on the day we parted on the waterfront."

  "Really?" Yvette's voice had warmed again.

  "It is the truth."

  "This is getting complicated. Remember, we were caught in a photo together in Seattle, and tongues wagged. We denied it, and you moved away. Remember the part where I could have been investigated for helping promote a man I was dating?"

  "I no longer work there, nor does half of that board."

  "I mean…that's true."

  "A few days from now, you will be in Hollywood. We should be seen together. Perhaps eating out. Our story shall be that you watched my performance and reached out to me. We were spotted having lunch.

  "Go on. I'm listening."

  "That is it. That is the plan."

  It took Yvette a few seconds, but she let out a laugh. "What?"

  "Let them talk and speculate. I have become viral for the moment. Tomorrow, I suspect I shall be cast opposite Serena Winters in a new independent film. Let them waggle their tongues on social media. If pressed, we will simply use the line that we were friends then, and we are friends now. I no longer work for you, Yvette. What can they do?"

  Yvette's laughter trailed away as she pulled the phone away from her face. A moment later, she came back on the line. "I like it, and you're right. Let them speculate."

  A hand rapped against the door. "You okay in there?"

  Morthisal sighed. "I am hiding in a bathroom. It seems I must depart."

  "Well, get back out there. I'll see you in a few days. Talk tomorrow night so we can hash out this plan a little more."

  "I shall count the hours."

  "Such a smooth talker," Yvette chuckled as she disconnected the call.

  Morthisal looked at his reflection in a decorative mirror, splashed some water on his face, dried it with a towel, and stepped back into the party. He made straight for the bar. It would be a good idea to clear things up with Serena and make certain she understood that he was in a relationship.

  Before he could take two steps, a deep male voice cut through the air. "Good evening, Lich King." Morthisal spun around. A man stood at the end of the hallway. Mid-thirties, unremarkable features, wearing a black shirt and an event staff earpiece. But his eyes. They held knowledge that didn't belong in this world. Morthisal was sure of it.

  Morthisal lashed out, but it was like striking a brick wall. The man's mind simply was not accessible.