The Fourth wall breaking of DEADPOOL meets JANE AUSTEN meets MAGICAL WEIRDNESS
When a mysterious new boy comes to town, seventeen-year-old odd ball, Peneloper Auttsley, must confront the secrets of her past in order to save her present.
...
When something happens to magic, it is felt throughout the layers. A disturbance, an imbalance, a complication reverberates inside every magical being.
Magic then is our tapestry, and we, a very microscopic thread of its weave. And once in the magical know we all become tethered to this inescapable truth.
It is for this very reason, Crispen Heavensley now lurches over the Luric's linen-covered dining table, head full of screams. They are more than primal, less than human; they are ancient, colossal, all-consuming, and heart-annihilating.
They emanate from that spark which ignited the universe, and its pain brings tears to Crispen's eyes.
Through blurred vision, he happens upon a glimpse of Gideon Darquish. Covered in darkness, crying and alone, unquenchable fury and suffering echoing from his soul. These are the emotions that have taken root inside him, that live where Gideon's magic had once flourished.
Hatred for the Council, for me, flares up inside of Crispen, and he burns more furiously than the sun, and could, if hefted into the cosmos, incinerate life on every planet in this galaxy.
He balls his hands into fists and calms that rage, filing it away for use on another day. He does not wish to explode in front of Peneloper; it is such a grisly sight to behold.
Instead, he witnesses another image, faded and yellowed around the edges, a sepia snapshot of another layer - the Refinery. More specifically, the Dead Man's Song as it was, as he remembered it to be. Then the picture ripples and the scene shifts to one of the Song as it is now, after Gideon's darkness had eaten away at its purpose.
Crispen desires to avert his gaze, but like with the Eyes of All, he cannot unsee. That, too, is his nature. No matter where he turns, no matter what direction his compass points, or what time he flees to, he will always have to face the consequences of living a life that should not have been.
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• Supper's Ready •
Unfamiliarity washed over Crispen, though he knew not why. He was in a familiar setting and almost certainly wearing a familiar form. Though to be sure, he double checked, pinching both cheeks, blinking furiously, even trekking his thumb along the slope of his nose to ensure it hadn't run off somewhere. All parts of him were there, and yet he didn't much feel like himself.
Around him the Luric pack, Peneloper and Genesis - who nibbled away at his plate of sliced peaches - gazed at him with puzzled expressions. They, too, must have sensed something was off.
"I," he eyed the table dressing nervously - the lace doilies, the crystal vase of pink carnations, the high-gloss, frilled china, and polished serving dishes - feeling for the first time uncomfortable and uncertain. "I—" Gideon's face surfaced again in his mind, the inky black cresting and falling around his shoes, all trace of the boy Crispen had known, gone, transformed.
