I. The Illusioned Forest
The most basic magic was of the Solar and Lunar variety. All magic could be traced back to those two simple truths: the sun rose and brought day to the world, and then it descended to bring night alongside the moon and stars. Everyone was born aspected to one or the other—born in the day? Solar. Born in the night? Lunar. Sure, academia argued if magicians were more powerful at the peak of day or dark of night or even during dawn or dusk, but what mattered was it was the basic of basic. Even someone never attuned to themself could feel their energy improve in the sunlight or drenched beneath the moonlight’s glow. Those were facts.
Facts Vahn knew deep in his being, drilled into him every day by his professors. Except no matter how basic, his Lunar Aspected self refused to grab the Solar Magic right there coasting across his outstretched palms as the glittering sunlight warmed his skin. Scholars posited that to really master an aspect, especially one starkly your opposite, you had to localize it. Hard to in an open field where Solar Magic tittered at your expense like a child. The beam of light cutting through the foliage above was the brightest thing in the forest and was surrounded by shadow. Localized. Yet every time Vahn sought to invite it closer so he could manipulate the magic therein, it resisted if not outright fleeing back behind the leaves.
It shouldn’t have mattered. Vahn felt the magic. The way the warmth touched his cheeks; the way it brightened the clearing behind his closed eyes; how it danced across his bare arms. That should have been enough. He knew it was there. It knew he was there.
He dropped his arms with a frustrated sigh and rested his hands in his lap. Acknowledgment was all he’d needed in the Floating University. Then again, magic up there surrounding the Floating World was benign. Pliant. Sundered into submission so magicians could weave it easily. If it hadn’t been, all the floating cities and landmasses would have come down long ago. In the lower world—here—magic was as wild and free as the scattered breeze fluttering through the air. Attempting to tame something so wild wasn’t the correct approach. It was more like a dance. Mutual respect.
That was what Professor Senwin had said, wasn’t it?
“A dance.” Vahn breathed out the words. “Let’s try again.”
He lifted his arms, holding them straight in front of him, and focused on the warmth. The infinite blaze of the sun far out of reach. The way it lit the world day in and day out and inspired life. How the vast sky held the sun aloft as a new day dawned. Infinite and forever.
Power traced across his bare arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and Vahn bit down, forcing back the shudder. Magic coiled as a warmth in his abdomen and released with a shuddering burst, melting power throughout his veins. Once it reached his fingertips, the world grew so real and overwhelming as it pressed against his skin, making the most mundane touch sublime, but he had to focus. The sun. He touched the power within the single beam of light.
And it fled.
Couldn’t even get an incantation off this time. Vahn sighed, making sure the sun heard it, and dropped his aching arms back into his lap. Any more tries and he wouldn’t be able to get up tomorrow morning. Even still, it was an occurrence he had to jot down in his journal. Every failure, every success, just to be the better magician. Even if the failure was you. Maybe he’d find what he was so clearly missing.
He ducked his head, feeling the chill of his earrings press against his jaw—reminding him he was in fact back in reality—and pulled his worn notebook free from the belt across his hips. Pages and pages full of notes and theorems; if it kept going like this, he’d need another one before long.
When he graduated from the Floating University of Magic in the Epsilon Quarter of the Floating World (he was glad the world below didn’t much care about the full title; it was a mouthful each time), he’d been given a rare chance not many magicians received: free reign to travel the world below among the wild and untamed magic to learn from it. The High Magicians—a council of hardened magicians facilitating order in both the floating and below worlds—believed in him and his magic enough to think he’d tame wild magic into something new and wondrous like they all had. It meant he could blur the boundaries between opposite aspects of magic, like Solar and Lunar.
Unless, of course, their faith was misplaced and this was, instead, a way to humiliate him for thinking he could be a magician worth anything. The thought wormed its way into him more times than he’d cared to admit, but each time, he dashed it away with the knowledge he’d been the top of his class. Graduated with distinction and they would never send a magician like him into the wild unknown if they didn’t trust him.
Vahn just had to have faith in himself. Traveling the world below and inundating himself with all sorts of magic took time. One day, he’d get to return and become a High Magician himself. Master of the world like them.
It was a nice dream. It kept back the reality that without it, there was nothing else for someone like him. A magician with no home or family. No business prospects beyond a set of arcane cards. No one he knew who would help him. Sure, the other magicians in his class had been snapped up by Lords and Ladies as court magicians, having the ear of those in power as intended, but what he was doing was better. It meant a kind of freedom they would never have again.
This hope was all he had and he couldn’t even control the most basic of magic down here.
The ink guided across the page, fueled by his frustration, and he was mindful of smearing it as he continued down the page. There was something there in all these odd occurrences he could learn from. He just had to find it.
A shiver of magic passed over him. Vahn jerked his head up.
Oh. He held his breath. This was not the forest clearing he’d settled down in. It was much, much darker. Twisting branches circled like an arbor overhead, blotting out the sky with leaves too blue to be real. The single ray of sunlight remained, shining gold and bright down on him like it resisted the forest changing to keep him safe, but thick shadows surrounded it. Something pitch-black that breathed. Vahn glanced over his shoulder. His coat and bag were gone, same with all his belongings within.
The magic ghosted across his skin anew and it felt like it teased him about taking so long to notice. Vahn tried to follow the sensation with a finger, but it immediately drew back.
“Well then,” Vahn said and followed the trail of magic with his eyes instead. A special talent of his. Useful in university when students tried to prove how much better they were than each other. Magic made invisible threads through the fabric of reality, pulling it this way and that to work spells. The stronger the spell, the more threads. Not many could see it unaided like Vahn. He rested his chin on his palm and follow the way it turned and twisted. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
The forest shivered in response, letting the leaves rustle together as though the entire place was giving him a fervent, if amused, nod.
This was not good. He couldn’t even recall feeling the world slip. Illusion Magic had its tells and while he still had a lot to learn about it, university stressed teaching students to feel it. Potent Illusion Magic could feel as real as the air itself, so it was imperative magicians always remained alert so they’d never be drawn under. Vahn had tested it with many eager classmates until they could all feel the world slip from underneath them.
Don’t panic, Vahn mouthed the words to his racing heart and slowly belted his notebook back to his hip. Illusion Magic weakened when recognized. “I know you’re an illusion,” Vahn said, raising his voice. The forest didn’t answer. He swallowed. “I will not let you trick me.” Acknowledge the spell and it would reveal itself. Vahn released a calming breath and closed his eyes.
“Reveal yourself to me,” he intoned, pushing magic through his voice. The wind stuttered and he opened an eye.
Nope. Still the dark forest illusion. Maybe worse now. Darker. Vahn bit his lip. Definitely intentional then. Sometimes errant Illusion Magic left behind by another spell could gather a mind of its own and play trickster, but this was clearly not that. Slowly, Vahn stood, and focused on a thread to untangle it from the others. Except he had no idea where to start. There were so many entwined within one another, making him dizzy the more he focused. Spells upon spells overlaid on top of each other, likely to keep people so deep in the illusion no matter if they knew how to dispel it.
Actually, it was rather ingenious. The amount of power and composure the magician had to have to weave all these spells was nothing short of amazing. That it held up and didn’t shudder once even after being acknowledged was practically unheard of.
That was the power Vahn wanted.
Except if he wanted to study it—find the master illusionist who’d weaved such an intricate tapestry—he’d need his belongings. So, unfortunately, he needed out. There had to be a way.
Vahn turned, hoping if he retraced his steps he’d find evidence of the real forest behind the illusion, but turning only let him notice the man coming around from behind the large oak Vahn had been resting against. The man made eye contact with Vahn, his own eyes growing wide.
Spells were intricate weavings of magic the caster pushed power into. It also followed the intensity of emotion. Vahn forgot himself, the control hammered into him throughout his years in university, and flung the tree’s shadow at the man. Emotion made it solid instead of the obfuscating screen Vahn had intended, and slammed the man into the ground.
Vahn winced. Not a mage then. Anyone who knew a little about magic could have dodged such a sloppy un-incanted spell of panic. The man groaned, face in the dirt, and Vahn sighed. “My apologies,” he said and crept closer. The shadows scattered and returned to the tree. “You startled me.” Vahn dropped to his knees and helped the man out of the dirt.
“I see that,” the man grumbled and held his jaw. Nothing looked broken, thankfully. “They always say never sneak up on a magician and now I know why.” He cracked his jaw and while Vahn was worried, the man flashed him a smile. It was a little crooked, but it matched the crooked slant of his nose all the same. Endearingly handsome once he was smiling. “The name’s Hawke.”
“I’m Vahn.”
Hawke looked like the traveling sort. Scuffed blond hair pushed off his forehead with a quick swipe of his hand, skin as golden as the sun itself, a strong jaw lined with stubble, and he had such clear green eyes. Dressed like a traveler too; an untied linen shirt clung to his sturdy torso beneath a vest not even properly buttoned, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to show off muscular arms. He wore dark trousers marred with dust (and now dirt) tucked into sturdy boots. Across his hips was a leather belt holding numerous little knives, and then a sword in its sheathe.
Perhaps he was a wandering mercenary of some kind. Vahn had met them aplenty already whenever he stopped at a tavern to find food. Most of them were well out of his price range and Vahn had stopped asking for their assistance. Magicians needed to learn to protect themselves, after all.
“Hello? You there?”
Vahn jolted and realized Hawke had been talking to him. Bad habit of getting too wrapped up in his thoughts. He swallowed. “Sorry. Just thinking. What are you doing here?”
Hawke scoffed and tilted his head. “I just asked you that,” he said and before Vahn could answer, he continued. “Some of the locals asked me if I could… figure this out.” He waved a hand over the forest around them. The magic traced his hand as it went, lighting little hums against his fingertips Vahn doubted he noticed. “This is uh… a little much me for me, you think?” He was smiling again and Vahn gave him a chuckle.
“A little much, yes,” Vahn said. “They knew it was enchanted and sent you anyway?”
“Hey, you walked in without even looking at the place.” Hawke snickered and Vahn felt a rush of heat bloom in his cheeks. “Locals watched you go in without a care in the world.”
“I didn’t see an illusion when I came in,” Vahn insisted, the heat reaching his ears. “Do the locals have an idea who did this or why?”
Hawke tilted his head in thought, chewing on his lip. After a moment, he shrugged. “Beats me—I didn’t really ask for details. Although, from what I gather this is the shortest path between Larkspur and Westark.” Vahn caught a glimmer of magic tumbling over the words. Curious. “They told me one day it just started getting dark and weird inside like this. Merchants go lost for a day and get robbed by literally nothing. No one’s died that I know of. Just robbed.” The magic died a few more words in and Vahn ignored it. Not the time to feel his throat to search for the cause. “There’s this path that goes around, but it takes a lot longer. You’ve an idea?” He inclined his head the other way. “You’re looking at me funny.”
Vahn’s peers always warned him his emotions were as clear as day on his face. Curiosity was hard to hide. “I have deduced this isn’t errant magic,” he said and Hawke nodded slowly. “I firmly believe an illusionist cast the spells specifically. Likely to rob merchants, as you say. It’s too advance for mere bandits to perform.” More nods. Encouraging, even if Vahn was stating the obvious. He glanced over his shoulder and searched the dark. Not much to see. Darkness existed between trees and leaves, the only thing lit up was the sunbeam that had moved farther away. “Unfortunately, we have to dispel it by hand.” Vahn resumed watching Hawke and the man was still nodding. “You have no idea what I’m talking about.”
Hawke snorted. “I’m not a magic guy,” he insisted. “Your idea sounds better than mine.”
“What was yours?”
“Hack at things until I found something that worked.”
Typical. Vahn rolled his eyes even as a teasing smile flitted across his lips. “You might be able to hack at things yet. Illusion spells are usually made with a core holding all the spells together to be projected. Either we find that or the mage themself.” He suddenly lifted a hand to feel the air. Nothing new was being cast; just a cycle of the same spell over and over again. He amended his statement. “Never mind. Core. I do not believe the illusionist is here.”
Hawke frowned. “Are we stuck here until we can find the core?”
“Unfortunately.” Vahn stood and offered Hawke a hand up. “The illusion hid my belongings or else I could have made a potion to displace us out of its snare. We’re stuck for now.” Hawke stood beside him and Vahn realized how tall the man was. Vahn hardly reached past his shoulder. Helpful. “Likely, the core is hidden in something known to the forest. Do you know where the oldest tree is?”
Hawke gave him a funny look. “I was just passing through,” he said. “The only reason I’m doing this is for free lodging overnight.”
Details. Vahn hissed out a sigh and peered over the dark. His wand was in his bag, so he had no focus to help point the way. Although, Hawke had a belt of many knives. Correct shape. Metal sung pure as magic danced across it. Vahn darted out a hand to take one, but Hawke was faster; he snapped Vahn’s hand away.
“Hey—watch it—”
“We need something shaped like a wand,” Vahn insisted. “Mine is currently gone. I can use a knife.”
Hawke let his hand go and lifted a mocking eyebrow. “They don’t teach you manners up there?” He slid a knife out and handed it to Vahn. Simple design. Handle wrapped in black cloth. The blade was dull with time and use, but still polished. Good enough.
“Is it obvious I’m from up there?”
Hawke’s gaze flitted to Vahn’s hair and then back before he shrugged. Oh. Of course. When inundated with magic at an early age, sometimes it changed superficial details. Like hair color. And eye color. Sometimes nails. Vahn’s nails were unaffected, but his hair had grown a soft shade of blue while his eyes were a deep red. Decidedly not normal. Many a person in the world below avoided him outright because of it.
He waved off his own question and focused instead on the task at hand.
It had grown darker, something almost solid encroaching in to rob them if they literally had anything. Vahn sure didn’t and given Hawke had only himself, not much there either. The darkness prickled at Vahn, up and down exposed skin, but he ignored it and decided his first action. Light. Vahn waved a finger in the air, gathering scant magic around it. Easiest of spells—didn’t matter what aspect you were.
“Light,” he intoned, letting magic pour from his lips with intent. The air crackled against his fingertip and molded itself into a small sphere. He handed it off to Hawke who almost immediately dropped the poor thing. Vahn gave him a look that Hawke gave right back.
“Not a magic guy,” Hawke said. “Give me a break.”
“Just hold it,” Vahn said. “It’ll keep the darkness from eating us alive.”
Hawke gulped. “W-What?”
“That’s how the illusion robs people. Less sunlight, the more shades can roam and take things. Thankfully, neither of us have anything worth taking.”
Except maybe their lives, but Vahn didn’t say that aloud. He didn’t know the true aim for the illusionist and blood was a good conduit for a spell if the mage wanted it. Could augment spells or be used to make a whole new one. Wouldn’t be hard to make someone disappear in an illusion like this.
Focus. Vahn pushed his thoughts away and focused on the now and not what ifs.
The second part: direction.
Vahn hushed a question Hawke had primed—the man snapped his jaw back shut—and twisted his magic around the knife. He left it suspended in the air in front of him.
“I ask you, shadows hidden within,” Vahn intoned, feeling his magic swell and release throughout his body. “Show me that which hides from my sight.”
The knife froze suddenly, like an invisible hand had grasped it still. It was another moment before it turned and pointed. Vahn picked his gaze up. A path overlaid in darkness where branches and leaves curled overhead, but as he stared, the more there was a glimmer of sunlight. Something was there. Vahn waited to see if anything would react, but the illusion had grown so still, it was almost like it held its breath in anticipation.
“There?” Hawke whispered, making Vahn jump. He’d leaned forward right beside Vahn, squinting his eyes to see.
“Likely.” Vahn took the knife and the magic let go. He slipped it into his belt as Hawke reached back to take it. “I’m holding onto this for now,” he quickly added to a muted protest. “Let’s go.”
Normally, Vahn wouldn’t want help—a flaw he’d developed while in university because asking his peers for help meant he was weaker than them—but he had no sword. Hawke did. At the very least, brawn counted for something and if Vahn couldn’t outright dispel the illusion, Hawke certainly could hack at it until he could. They walked silently through the illusion grown still, the light nestled in Hawke’s palm still flickering and wavering against all the magic in the air. Occasionally, when the darkness seemed to grow, Vahn retrieved the knife and unveiled their path once more.
His pace quickened of its own volition, the burning desire to learn and dissect the magic, overtaking Hawke’s long strides, and after a moment, Hawke garbled a word and his hand grazed Vahn’s wrist. Fingers touched the golden bangle encircling it and the bracelet shuddered, making Vahn’s body numb until he jerked away.
Hawke held up the offending hand as Vahn spun to face him. “Don’t go so—”
“Careful,” Vahn snapped as he brought the bangle’s pair on the other wrist against it. They clinked together, settling a hum down through his arms and the numbing sensation vanished. “It reacts to magic.”
“I didn’t—”
“Everyone has magic even if you don’t willfully cast it,” Vahn interrupted. “It reacted to the lingering Illusion Magic on you and touching it without thinking will lock my magic and make me defenseless.”
Hawke’s face tightened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch it. I just didn’t think you should go so far ahead of me.”
Vahn blinked. “I wasn’t far ahead of you.”
Except he must have been given the look Hawke leveled on him. The illusion was pulling them farther apart without his realization. Definitely made with a trained hand. Vahn sighed and readjusted the bangles. The hum died down and he stopped fidgeting. His nerves were frayed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
Hawke glanced at the bangles, but to his credit he did not reach out to touch them again. People in the world below had a fascination with them. Easy way to stop haughty magicians in their tracks if someone braved close enough with a spark of unknown magic. Vahn was only glad he had a pair; magicians with only one couldn’t undo the enchantment as easily.
“Why do you wear them?” Hawke asked.
“Fail-safe,” Vahn said. “Magic is dangerous, after all. Come on.” He pulled the knife free and let it get them back on track. The path had shifted to their right. A ray of sunlight shimmering down in a nearby clearing. Darkness was so thick around it, like if it wanted to eat the sunlight whole. “We’re almost there. I feel something stirring around the light.”
And stirring it did; as soon as Vahn took the knife, magic screeched and Hawke was shoving him out of the way. Their light winked out, sheathing them in shadows if not for the sunbeam, and a vine shot past them. It whizzed through the air, cracking through the shadows, and retracted just as fast. Vahn swung himself behind the nearest tree, dodging the next assault, and Hawke rolled closer to their assailant, drawing his sword with a flourish. The silver blade glimmered against the scant sunlight, and the illusion roared. Hawke arced his strike wide, cutting branches and vines like they were paper. Silver had its advantages. The forest trembled with another mighty cry and Vahn steadied himself against the tree.
There in the center. Another tree with a stone pulsing within. Except the tree moved. A treant. Wood and tree forced into the shape of a giant beast. The foliage crowning its head was dying; it’d been a while then that the illusionist was by. Except without the illusionist feeding it magic, it meant the treant was taking magic from the natural world. No wonder the forest had grown twisted the way it had. If it was left to continue, it could keep swallowing up land around it.
Hawke dodged a mighty blow and the fist slammed the ground, making the trees quiver.
“An illusion my ass!” Hawke shouted. “The hell is this thing?!”
A really good illusion.
Vahn tried to think quick—there had to be a way to reveal the stone core—but then something snared his ankle. He looked down, eyes wide, and the branch whipped him high into the air. The world blurred by, a scream lost in his throat, and he scrambled to call the shadows to catch him. The spell fell apart in a panic, but it slowed his descent enough. When he hit the ground, he only lost his breath; better than breaking anything. Silver flashed over him, slicing a branch tendril in two, and Vahn watched as it rolled into the sunlight.
And disappeared.
Vahn drew in a gasp. Illusion magic came from the shadows. Its antithesis was sunlight. As he scrambled for the stream of light, another branch twisted around his legs, bringing him right back down, and dragged him across the earth.
Vahn dug his fingers into the dirt, but it didn’t help. Panicking, Vahn looked on his person for something and as his leg began to lift back into the air, he sighted Hawke’s knife. It was also silver. He yanked it out and swung wide over his legs. The blade cut through the illusioned branches, leaving him free. Vahn hardly got up to his knees before Hawke’s very solid body collided with him.
They went rolling, the world spinning once again, and Vahn ended up on top of Hawke. The treant raised its two fists—large, bulbous knots—and Vahn shot his hands upward. “Shadows I command: shield!” he shouted, panicked.
The shadows leapt at his call, solidifying around him and Hawke right as the fists came down. Vahn’s entire body shook as the treant hit the shield, but it withstood the assault. The fists came down again, harder, and Vahn flinched. Pain coiled through his arms all the way through his entire body, making it spasm as it begged to let go. It wouldn’t last forever. He stiffened as Hawke’s hands found his waist and kept him upright.
Helpful; Hawke’s fingers tightened as the blows came down, but it worked. Vahn didn’t quite fold over. Vahn eased in a shaking breath to gather some bit of strength back.
“Plan!?” Hawke shouted urgently, and Vahn gritted his teeth.
“I’m trying!” Vahn snapped back. “Where’s your sword?”
Hawke dipped his head back, looking forward. Through the veil the shadow shield made, Vahn caught it gleaming behind the treant. They both swore. The treant bashed harder and Vahn flinched.
“Plan,” Vahn spat out, feeling his arms buckle. “Trust me. Grab your sword. I’ll get him into the light. Strike when you see the core. You’ll have to let me go.”
Hawke caught Vahn’s gaze. The plan was sitting as well with him as it did Vahn. Poorly. It was all he had though. Hawke nodded and swallowed. “Got it,” he said and let go.
Vahn dropped one hand to Hawke’s chest. Risky. Losing one arm weakened the shield and it cracked from the divided attention. It pushed him further down, pain etching all the way through his arm and into his shoulder. He could do this. Two different spells at once. Vahn focused. Hawke’s heart was incredibly distracting, how fast and how hard it beat, but he pushed his concentration through him and into the air around Hawke. Magic sung at Vahn’s attention and it gathered, breathing, and gripped Hawke. The poor man’s eyes went wide at once, but Vahn didn’t bother to explain. Vahn intoned the two spells in tandem as the treant raised its large fists. The shield shattered and Vahn rocketed Hawke beneath the treant’s legs and toward his sword.
Hawke yelled, more out of shock more than anything else, and Vahn threw himself as hard as he could out of the way. Both fists came down exactly where he’d been, shaking the entire woods, and the treant spun to face Hawke. Good distraction. Hawke was at his feet, flashing the silver sword, and as Vahn ran for the sunlight, the treant trundled after Hawke.
The sunlight prickled as Vahn stood beneath and through it, he saw what the woods really were. Perfect. Vahn reached for the magic. It warmed his fingers, tingling all the way through, and pulsed against the pain.
“Sun hear my plea!” he chanted and the treant froze mid-swing. Even as Hawke’s sword went through its arm, it didn’t react beyond spinning to face Vahn. “Reveal to us your truths!”
And there it was. The magic coy all this time brilliant and loud against Vahn’s desperation. The sunlight raced like fire across his skin, lighting the world before him in its glow, and burst like a flame as it simply lit everything in its path. The treant shuddered, freezing, and beneath its intricately woven spells and bark was a shimmering quartz stone holding the very spells ensnaring the forest. A show of mastery, all the fine details carefully woven within to project so far, it hurt to see the sword crush it. Hurt to see all the spells disintegrate before Vahn could study it properly. All scattered into a million pieces never again put together in the same way.
But what did the illusionist’s spells matter? Vahn had captured the sun. He released the unveiling spell and called it again just as fast, this time fashioning it into a golden light against his palm he could peer through. A laugh bubbled its way out of his throat as he let it dance across his fingers, shaped it into so many different combinations of spells he could have only dreamed of before. He only stopped when Hawke stared at him, incredulous.
“You having fun there?” he teased, breathless.
Vahn couldn’t help but laugh. “I did it!” He dropped the magic at once, eyes wide, and whipped around. “My bag!” The clearing he’d been in wasn’t far and he saw his sorry camp left near the oak drenched in sunlight. Ideas continued flitting to life in his mind with his newfound understanding of sunlight—it needed desperation and life, not just a rote plea—and his legs tumbled under him as he reached his deceptively small black bag.
Whispering a spell against the fabric, he reached his hand deep inside, deeper than any bag had any right to be, and his book shot into his hand. He drew it out and let magic keep it aloft as it searched for an open page. Every Wayfarer Magician like him had a tome like this to keep everything they learned on their journey in one place. Enchanted by the High Magicians themselves, it sorted the pages magically and made new ones as needed. Vahn’s book was still thin, all things considered, filled with his knowledge of Lunar and Arcane Magic, but it would fatten up with time.
It stopped at the open page and Vahn drew his finger across it as his thoughts spilled out in ancient script only magicians were allowed to know. Spells unfurled themselves upon the page, theorems and ideas, and he couldn’t help but grin watching it work. Everything he learned at the Floating University mixed with his new knowledge of wild Solar Magic.
“What—” Hawke had jogged over, still breathing heavy, and Vahn flicked a glance at him as the book continued writing. Without the illusion, he smelled like the sun, actually. Curious. “What are you doing?”
“That was Solar Magic,” Vahn said, barely able to contain his excitement. “I’ve been trying to perform it on my own down here for days. I have to make sure I jot everything down.” He nodded to the page. “Hence, my tome.” The page finished with a flourish and he snapped the book shut. The magic sealed itself inside for later studying and Vahn belted the front cover back down. “Magic tome.”
“Oh, I figured it was magic. Floating and everything.” Hawke wiggled his fingers and the smile was back. “That’s pretty handy.”
“I’ll add more to it when I’ve time to practice.” Vahn bent down and gathered his bag up. With careful fingers, he wedged the book back inside. The bag stretched to accommodate it, but once it was in, it was like it had nothing inside.
“How did…”
“Magic bag.” Vahn slung it over his shoulder. “My own experiment with Space Magic. I’m working out the kinks. Sometimes I lose smaller items in there.” He smiled and a worried chuckle worked its way out of Hawke. “I won’t overload you with the details. Thank you for your assistance. I truly appreciate it.” He dusted off any errant dirt clinging to his coat and shrugged it on.
“Yeah, yeah.” Hawke plucked his knife from Vahn’s belt and added it back to his own. “Don’t want you to lose this. Glad I could be of help.”
Vahn let him have it—no use to him now that he had his wand back (it was still safely in his coat pocket)—and he freed his notebook. Minor compared to his magic book, he still had to jot all his magic occurrences down to track patterns in his own casting and spells. He found the page he’d only written halfway through and simply continued, undaunted as Hawke watched him.
“I will leave you to inform the locals. Now, if you excuse me.”
Hawke stopped him, hand at his shoulder. “Wait! Do you know what time it is?”
Vahn blinked and glanced around them. The sun was definitely lower in the sky than he thought, sending horizontal trails of light through the forest. Much nicer than absolute darkness, but it was quickly setting. “Oh,” he whispered. “It’s not morning.”
“You got about maybe an hour left of sunlight,” Hawke said.
Vahn huffed. “I’ve traveled roads at night—I’m Lunar Aspected so it’s fine,” he insisted and wavered as Hawke took away his hand. Bruises became stark across his body, waiting for his realization, and he winced. Hawke nodded knowingly.
“Something might eat you or rob you,” Hawke said. “You can’t even stand straight.” His hands went back to Vahn’s shoulders and adjusted him from leaning too far. “When did you last eat?”
Probably sometime in the morning. The farmer he’d stayed with overnight had given him some honey bread before he left and he’d eaten it on the way. She’d been the one who pointed out the forest to him. He wondered if she’d known about the illusion and hoped he’d fix it, but was too polite to outright ask.
“Yes, you’re right.” Vahn sighed and peered up at Hawke. “My professors always said I get lost in the details too easily. Magic has left me pretty ravished.” He drew out the word and Hawke paused. “Buy me a meal since I sort of saved us?”
“Oh, you did?” Hawke snickered and shook his head. “Well, they do owe us a meal since I did what they asked me to do… I figured it out.”
Vahn pursed his lip. “I figured it out,” he said. “You just crushed it.”
Hawke winked at him and Vahn had to glance away to hide his laugh. “You tell it your way and I’ll tell it mine.” The magic was there again. Dancing from syllable to syllable. Vahn lost track of it when Hawke patted his shoulder so hard, it knocked him forward.
“Come on, let me lead you back,” he said. “There’s a roadside tavern out this way. They got all my shit there and once we spin them some tales, I bet they’ll be feeding us all night.”
Vahn smiled at him and let him lead. “You’re a betting man, then?”
“Gotta do something to keep it interesting.”
The road was clear, sunlight dipping out of the sky as it cast soft orange glows across the trees, and Vahn couldn’t help but breathe the world in deep. It smelled so different than the world above. Something realer here than up there. Solidly beneath his feet. It might have helped Hawke was walking right next to him. Smiling. It was endearing.
Dinner would be nice with him, Vahn decided. Sharing it with someone for once that wasn’t in competition with him. Someone like a friend.
🙡🙢