Author: Shannon Messenger
Category: Childrens
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/shannon-messenger/page,13,43861-nightfall.html
“Please,” he whispered, holding out his arms like someone facing down a feral animal. “Please be careful with that.”
“Why should I?”
“Because it’s all I have left.” His voice choked as he added, “That seed is not fake, Miss Foster. Nor was what happened in Lumenaria.”
He needed several deep breaths before he added, “What you hold in your hands is all that remains of my brother.”
The words moved like sludge through Sophie’s brain.
“Your . . . brother.”
Mr. Forkle nodded, looking away to wipe his eyes. “My twin brother. Identical twin.”
Okay. Now Sophie needed to sit.
Everything was wobbling and shaking—or maybe that was her. She didn’t know anymore.
She didn’t know anything.
Tiergan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her to one of the armchairs.
“You knew about this?” she asked, tempted to shove Tiergan away. But she didn’t have the strength.
He nodded as he lowered her onto the lumpy cushion.
“For how long?” Sophie demanded. “Before Lumenaria?”
“Yes,” Tiergan admitted. “But they still kept the truth from us for many years. It wasn’t until Project Moonlark, when we were trying to figure out how to keep an eye on you while you lived in the Forbidden Cities. We’d often joked that Forkle seemed to be able to be two places at once. We never realized that he really could be.”
“It was the secret that was never meant to be shared,” Mr. Forkle added quietly—though Sophie realized then that it wasn’t Mr. Forkle.
Not really.
She swallowed hard as a fresh swell of grief hit hard. She hadn’t noticed how much hope had filled her until it washed away.
“So, your brother,” she said. “He was the one who . . .”
Her words trailed off as she struggled to find a way to describe their relationship.
Mr. Forkle hadn’t necessarily been a father figure. But he’d often taken care of her. And sometimes, he’d even made her believe he cared.
“He was the one who lived next door to me?” she finished lamely.
“That’s the part that’s going to be especially confusing.” He lumbered closer, looking and moving so familiarly, it broke her heart. “There was never any division between us. I was him and he was me. We only ever had one life, that we shared equally.”
Sophie frowned. “Does that mean . . . sometimes I was with you?”
“In a way it was always me. We shared every thought. Every feeling. Every memory. Nothing was ever separate—except for our bodies. Physically, our time had to be divided, which was why we created a rigid schedule, and never deviated, even when it was inconvenient. But I beg you not to try to guess it. Our existence was seamless. Anything we ever said or did came from both of us, even though only one of us was present in that moment.”
“That . . . doesn’t make sense.”
“I know. But for us, it was a perfectly natural way of being.” He sank into the chair across from her, staring out the window. “Wherever either of us went, whatever we witnessed or accomplished individually, it was simply a part of our collective whole. We always considered each other before we made decisions—and we updated each other on everything. Before we manifested as Telepaths, we made it a habit of staying up late, rehashing every detail of our days. And once we could connect our minds, we started swapping memories fully—holding nothing back. So, when you were with him, it was no different than if you were with me.”
“But why?” Sophie had to ask. “Why lie to everyone and live like that?”
“Because it was either share a life, or face the scorn of identical twins. And back when we were born, our world was even more restrictive than what you see now. We never would’ve been allowed to attend Foxfire, or been invited to join the nobility—and that would’ve only been the beginning of the limitations. But regardless of any of that, the decision was also out of our hands. When I made my surprise appearance—two minutes and twelve seconds after my brother made his—my parents had to make a choice. And they chose this.”
“They didn’t know they were having twins?” Sophie asked, finding that hard to believe. Even humans knew how to find that out ahead of time.
“They claim they did not—and you must keep in mind that this was a long time ago. They didn’t do as many tests back then. Though I do think my parents suspected. I find it rather suspicious that my mother chose to give birth somewhere private, instead of going to the birthing center. My father was a physician, and insists that my mother’s pregnancy had been so healthy that they saw no reason to make her leave the comforts of home for delivery. But that also made it incredibly easy for them to falsify the paperwork and erase any trace of my existence.”
He lifted the swollen folds around his neck, revealing a registry pendant set onto a strained silver chain. “Technically, the feed this crystal generates isn’t mine, and never has been. But it’s the only life I’ve ever known. My mother told me once that if we’d been fraternal twins, she would’ve simply tucked me away and faked a second pregnancy. But we were identical. They could never register me without my DNA giving us away. So my father came up with this much more complicated solution. He gave us one name. One inception date. One registered strand of DNA. And from that moment on, we were raised to see ourselves as two halves of a single whole. Only one of us ever left the house at any given time. And we were never allowed to mention the existence of the other—to anyone.”
“That sounds horrible,” Sophie mumbled.
“Perhaps. But it was the only life either of us knew, so we never resisted. It took us more than a decade to realize that others didn’t share their lives with anyone else. We’d always assumed everyone had another like them, hidden at home.”
“And you weren’t furious when you figured out they’d lied to you?” Sophie asked.
“Of course we were. But had we come forward, our parents would’ve been exiled for falsifying registry records—and my brother and I would’ve become the ultimate pariahs. The only logical path was the one we were already on. So, we decided to see it as an advantage. And in many ways, it was. Only we had a built-in backup system. Only we could do the work of a single person in half the time. As Tiergan said, we could be two places at once. And eventually, we realized that it was a phenomenal waste to hide one of us away while the other was out in the world. So we mastered the art of disguise. But every role was played by both of us. We also began to study genetics, trying to determine if there was a reason for our world’s prejudices against multiple births. Nowhere could we ever find any proof of the feared ‘inferiority’ in our genetic circumstance. But the more we studied, the more we began to realize that there were ways to adjust DNA to affect someone’s abilities. And when we thought about how slowly our society was crumbling—so slowly that very few realized it—a plan started to form. But we needed help, so we reached out to the Black Swan.”
Sophie sat up straighter. “I always assumed you were the one who founded the order.”
“Many have assumed that. But the seeds were in place long before our inception. This tower is proof of that. All we did was help shape the existing members into a true organization. And yes, as Tiergan said, we kept the nature of our dual existence a secret. The Black Swan had enough to hide. But as Project Moonlark took form, we realized that some would need to know the truth to understand the depth of our plan. So we revealed ourselves to a very select group, as I am now doing again.”
“I still remember when they walked in,” Tiergan said with a deeply sad smile. “They didn’t give us any sort of warning. Just called a meeting, and when we showed up, there were two of them. Pretty sure I screamed.”
“You did. That was a much happier reveal than this one.”
Mr. Forkle wiped his eyes again.
Sophie tried to think of something to say, but even with him sitting right in front of her, it was still so hard to bel
ieve.
“And you and your brother really shared everything?” she asked. “You never kept any secrets?”
“We couldn’t. Our life would’ve collapsed. That’s why even with his final breaths, my brother made sure there would be no gaps in my memories.”
He reached into his pocket and removed the round gadget that Mr. Forkle had pressed into Sophie’s hand as he lay dying.
Sophie glanced at Tiergan. “That’s why you said it wasn’t intended for you.”
He nodded. “Not that I wasn’t tempted to take a peek, but . . . they weren’t my memories.”
“They were mine,” Mr. Forkle rasped. “My brother recorded everything he saw at the Peace Summit, as well as his showdown with Gethen and Brant to protect Councillor Oralie. Even his farewell to you is there, to make sure I knew everything. Right up to the end.”
A shuddery sob slipped out with the words, and Sophie watched his shoulders shake as she fought back her own emotions. Her eyes stung and her nose ran, but she swallowed away the tears. She wasn’t ready for them.
“He also reminded me of our agreement,” Mr. Forkle added as he stood and paced to the window. “The one we’d worked out in case something like this ever happened—though it wasn’t much of a plan. Mostly it involves me learning to do less, since I’ll have to shoulder the burden alone now. I don’t think either of us truly believed this would be our reality, but . . . here we are.”
He offered a weak smile, but Sophie shook her head. “I don’t understand why you waited this long to tell me.”
He sighed. “You probably won’t like this answer, Miss Foster—and you’re welcome to think me cruel if you wish. But I decided that my brother deserved to be mourned. He deserved to have his loss felt—and if I’d made an appearance right away, it would’ve been too natural for everyone to act like he was still with us. I’m him, after all. But also not completely. So I asked the Collective to hold off. I’d actually planned to go another week, until we were closer to when I’d need to return to work at Foxfire. But when Tiergan told me about your family, I knew you would need me. So here I am.”
Warmth swelled with the words and Sophie fought it back.
Everything felt too fragile.
Her heart was breaking all over again—both for him and the brother they’d lost.
“Things will have to change,” he added quietly. “I’m still deciding what will and won’t be sacrificed. But I know I won’t be able to sneak away as often as I used to—especially once I return to my responsibilities as principal. Fortunately, no one will be suspicious of you or your friends paying regular visits to my office, thanks to your propensity for trouble.” He offered a weak smile. “And I’ll probably need to pare down my total number of identities. I’m just struggling to decide the best way to do that without drawing too much attention. And then, of course, there’s simply the challenge of being me. My brother was my balance—and I was his. I’m not sure how I’ll get anything done without having him question everything I’m thinking. It feels like I’ve been left with a hollow body and only half a brain, and . . .”
Sophie met his watery eyes—so familiar, but somehow so wrong. “I . . . don’t know what to feel,” she whispered.
He snorted a thick laugh. “That makes two of us.”
“Three of us,” Tiergan agreed. “And I’m sure your friends will feel the same.”
Sophie sank back against her chair and tried to imagine how they were going to react. All she could picture were blank stares.
“Are you ready for me to tell them?” Mr. Forkle asked.
She shook her head. She needed to sort out her own thoughts before she could face any more chaos.
“What am I supposed to call you?” she asked.
“The same things you always have, Miss Foster. I’m still him. I always have been. And I will be, until it’s my turn to draw my last breath, should that day happen.”
The words were equal parts reassuring and devastating.
This had to be what Mr. Forkle meant when he’d promised her that his death wouldn’t be as bad as she thought it would be. And she could see why he might think that.
But . . . he was still dead.
His blood had still stained her hands. His last rattling breath had really been the end.
Somehow it felt like losing him all over again.
She focused on the locket still clutched in her fist, trying to fight off a surge of tears. “Am I supposed to give his seed to you? Do you know where to plant it?”
Mr. Forkle nodded. “We chose a spot long ago. Neither of us wanted to be in the Wanderling Woods. We wanted to commemorate our shared life the same way we lived it—together, and just outside the bounds of our world.”
It took more strength than Sophie would’ve expected to stand and offer the locket to him.
“Actually, he wanted you to be with me when I plant it. I was hoping we could go there together later today. Hopefully it’ll give us that elusive bit of closure we’ll need as we try to regroup from here. We’ll also bring your friends, of course. And the few others who’ll soon be in on the secret. Everyone who heard about my death will have to know the truth about my brother, otherwise they’ll wonder why Magnate Leto is still at Foxfire, and why Sir Astin will sometimes appear in the Lost Cities, and why this bloated body will still be an active part of the Collective. But the rest of the world will continue on as though nothing has changed, and I’ll need you to act accordingly. I’ll do my best to make it seem as if that really were the case.”
Everything he said made sense.
But it also didn’t.
And the idea of saying goodbye—with him right beside her . . .
It hurt her brain.
And her heart.
And something even deeper inside.
Everything was slowly unraveling. And even though Sophie knew he’d asked her not to, she couldn’t stop her mind from sorting through her memories, trying to find a pattern to which Forkle had been which.
What if the better brother was gone, and all that was left was the cranky guy who wrote confusing notes and grumbled about “you kids”?
“I’ll do all of that,” she whispered. “If you’ll tell me one thing—one memory that was you. I promise I won’t ask for more than that. But I need something to help me figure out how to feel about this.”
Mr. Forkle’s sigh felt endless, and she flinched as he reached for her free hand, bracing for a stern lecture. But all he did was gently pull the glove off, careful not to touch her skin as he pointed to the small star-shaped mark on the back of her hand. “I’m the one who gave you this.”
Her breath caught. “You were the one who healed my abilities?”
“I was. And I wish I’d managed the process better.”
He’d made her drink an entire ounce of Limbium to reset her brain, and then injected her with a human remedy to stop her allergy from killing her. He probably should’ve stabbed the needle in her leg—maybe then she wouldn’t have gotten the scar. But he’d gone with her hand, leaving the small star as a permanent souvenir of the trauma.
But that wasn’t the part of the memory that Sophie’s mind focused on.
Mr. Forkle had given her a choice about the risk she’d be taking, making it clear she could go on just as she was if she didn’t want to face the danger. He’d also taken the time to answer one very important question to set her mind at ease. And afterward, when the Neverseen dropped out of the sky to steal Silveny, it was Mr. Forkle who’d charged in to protect her, along with several dwarves.
It wasn’t a happy memory.
But she also remembered trusting him completely—with her life, and Keefe’s life and Silveny’s.
“Okay,” she whispered, pulling her glove back on.
“You’ll do the planting?” Mr. Forkle asked quietly. “And then we’ll try to move forward?”
Sophie didn’t know how. But the only answer she could give was, “We’ll try.”
And with those
words, the tears she’d been choking back since the moment he came down those stairs finally broke free.
For several seconds she cried alone. Then warm, pudgy arms pulled her into a ruckleberry-scented embrace, and she clung to Mr. Forkle as her tears soaked his wrinkled tunic and he whispered the only two words that made her feel any better.
“I’m here.”
Nineteen
WATCHING HER FRIENDS come face-to-face with the gone-but-not-gone Mr. Forkle was even more emotionally exhausting than Sophie had imagined. And it felt like the cramped tower might burst from all the pressure.
Fitz was furious—which wasn’t surprising. Sophie had seen his grief-torn rage before, during the days they’d temporarily lost Alden to a guilt-broken mind. But thankfully, this time Fitz’s shouts were saved entirely for Mr. Forkle. And Mr. Forkle bore it well, enduring the tirade until Fitz settled into one of the armchairs in a daze.
Biana cried—huge, shaking sobs that twisted her flawless features into something red and puffy. Some were tears of fury. Others dripped with joy and relief. And the overwhelming combination would’ve made Biana collapse if Dex hadn’t let her soak his shoulder with snot and tears until her cries faded to hiccup-y whimpers.
Dex’s reaction, meanwhile, was much more analytical. He pummeled Mr. Forkle with question after question, and demanded to know a specific time when he’d interacted with this Forkle. Sophie was sure he’d probably been hoping the elf in front of them was the one who pulled them away from their kidnappers in Paris, but that seemed to have been the other brother. But the Forkle still with them was the one who’d been there—as Magnate Leto—the day the Council forced Sophie to wear the ability restrictor that Dex had been tricked into designing. It was another far-from-happy memory, but still one where Mr. Forkle had done everything in his power to get them through. And for Dex, that seemed to be enough.
Tam only had one nonnegotiable demand: that Mr. Forkle let him take another reading of his shadowvapor—and the amount he found was the same as what he’d sensed before. Mr. Forkle seemed so genuinely surprised by the discovery that Sophie wondered if Tam had taken a reading of the other brother the last time. But Tam didn’t ask. He just moved to a dark corner and settled into the shadows.