If he is not unhappy, he will be wicked
Description
"Karnival Eve - Seraphins" is a young adult fantasy novella for fans of "Six of Crows" and "Nevernight", inspired by French shadow theater and Romani mythology. It is also a retelling of the fairy tale "Le Prince Fatal et le Prince Fortuné" by Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont (1711-1780).
20th century Paris. Crime Boulevard. Dominique-Séraphin, pushed around by his twin brother - the leader of the Seraphins' Shadow Theater, plans revenge for the theft of his shadow. He secretly forms an army of treacherous shadows - recruits from duels organized in theaters belonging to the Séraphins. Everything changes a few nights before the start of Karnivals, when Etienne-Séraphin makes an unexpected proposal to Dominique.
The novella takes place during the events described in "Karnival Eve, Parts 1 and 2".
Table of content:
Prologue
Séraphins
Bonus Part: Merripen & Lili
The ebook contains 93 pages.
Multiformat: EPUB, MOBI & PDF
Please note
There are no representatives of the Roma minority in "Karnival Eve”. Karnival Kreatures described in the book are characters created on the basis of Romani mythology and they are not human, so their behavior should not be attributed to members of this community.
The novel did not undergo editing and was translated from Polish by the author.
Through purchasing this ebook, you support my further work on "Karnival Eve".
Original texts in foreign languages await translation in the editing process.
Trigger warning: drug and alcohol abuse, killing, violence
Recommended reader age: 16+
Excerpt
"He surveyed all troupers and their shadows, his glare bored yet alert. Most shadows were black or grey. However, he also noticed delicate as lace weaved from smudges of pale smoke, silver-white ethereal reflections of artists from theater des ombres blanches. Complete delegation of theatres des ombres gris and ombres noir as well as Shadow Market’s representatives. Famous starlets and street moonlighters crowded in one throng.
“Looks official.” He returned, half amused, half petulant. He didn’t like surprises. Those of Etienne’s in particular. Why had his brother convened all Séraphins? He looked up, beyond heads of the gathered, at the young man, sitting in Louis XVI's armchair. His mirror reflection. Velveteen padding of the throne devouring light. Etienne put on a negligent pose. His tailcoat halfly unbottoned, so as his shirt. But apart from that, from a distance, he looked excatly like Dominique. Despite the black shadow wreathing behind the throne, of course. Living figment of night.
It could have been me, he thought.
Etienne didn’t look in his direction. As if he didn’t noticed his twin’s presence. So as settled rightwards Etienne’s father didn’t pay attention to his unfortunate son. Son without a shadow. In the room full of Séraphins.
Dominique walked behind Pauline. Throng parted before the flame glimmering on her hand. Shadows, moved by the presence of yagshi were dancing on the walls, streaching and shrinking. Uncertain, skittish, alive and wild. Benelovent and predacious. See-through clean as teardrops and filthy black as souls of murderers.
He caught himself on searching for one shadow, one face in the crowd. He tried to capture one voice among the choir of whispers. And then, with merciless clarity, it dawned on him that he wouldn’t find her there.
Until Etienne ruled Séraphins, Telane tresspasing the treshold of Hotel Lannion was out of question. His twin brother was keen on depriving Dominique of everything he cared about. Not that he wanted to possess what Dominique valued. He only wanted to make sure Dominique wouldn’t have it.
Dominique took his frequent post in the recess, where stood the scoulpture of marble faun or, maybe, Mephistofeles. Familiar, tresherous shadows whirling around it. He stood righ under the marble creature, at the forefront of the troupe of the blackest shadows of his most trusted Séraphins. Avril, Celestine, Frédérick and Pierre-Francois bowed to him, respectful. In the parisian metropolis even shadows were capable of killing. The shadows of this four young men, crouched in the corner of the chamber, emerging form inbetween the curtains fluttering on the night breeze, were often the last thing what French aristocrats and diplomats saw.
Needless to say, Séraphins were generously paid for assasinations. The service was costly, but worth its price. Shadows couldn’t be stopped by locks, walls or security. One second incorporeal, the other completely tangible and then vanishing into dark, thin air. Perfect murderers.
Soon, his troop of assasins would enlarge with the winners of shadow fights. Soldiers, recruited by him, having checked his deadly skills on scene prior. He would become their general, and when he would have whole hosts, whole army on his command – he would make a coup. He would retrive his shadow and throw Etienne off the throne."
"Dominique’s face was a reflection of Etienne’s seen in a broken mirror. Etienne’s skin was smooth and firm, while Dominique’s was rough and coarse, scattered with scars from ilnesses tormenting him in the childhood and fights he fought in growing up. No his body was more resistant, as if the toils of his misfortuned life burnt out everything that was delicate in him, left as many imprints as they could, and left him alone.
Both brothers were attractive in a way suitable for Karnival Kreatures – oily black hair, black fires in their eyes, slightly smoky skin. But where Etienne’s expression preserved subtliety of an aristocrat – Dominique showed crudence and wilderness, almost brute, gained in the darkest alleys of Bulevard du Crime. It was no surprise that Séraphins were fancing Etienne, and were avoiding looking at Dominique, event though they were indistinguishable at first glance."
Bonus: Merripen & Lili
"You were different last night”, he said when they were playing cards, her favorite game of Eleusis, in Valet Noir the night after. There were only nights in Karnival Kolony, and, surprisingly, she found endless darkness, with only brief moments of vague twilights and dawns, comforting."
"She didn’t dare to raise her eyes from her neat spread of cards. She didn’t mind, though. She could play for hours. She was obsessed with the idea of the figures. The way each dealing put another story in her hands. Forbidden love between valet and dame under the sight of the king. Three sisters finding each other, at last, in hand of one player. She admired the sharp peak of spade, and how romantic the scarlet hearts were. Soft curves of the club, and blunt elegancy of diamonds, and the way they resembled arlequin tricote’s pattern. And the suits? They could be so pretty. Wicked always had a nice deck in his pockets (couple of them she had stolen from him, not without a considerable effort). She loved how the jokers brought a hint of havoc in the game. And how certain numbers reminded her of different things. The good way to count cards, the useful thing Wicked had taught her. And she turned out to be a docile student. Lili didn’t bother herself with mind games. She perfected throwing cards at impossible speed instead."
