IV. Illusions Makes Fools of Us
Sunlight streamed in through the slats in the windows, shimmering across Hawke’s skin until he outright tingled. Mornings like this made him appreciate being Solar Aspected even if it didn’t do him much good. He continued rousing, blinking back sleep, and caught a crop of red curls across his chest. His arm was around her shoulders where a shirt of his she’d always used as a nightshirt dipped down to show her rosy brown shoulders. She made a sleepy noise, curling up against him to hide from the sun, and only when he drummed his fingers against her skin in a melody she’d taught him did she look up at him, her clear brown eyes twinkling behind her hair.
“Good morning there,” Hawke said, his voice groggy.
She smiled, lips pursing together in amusement, and she kissed the end of his nose. “You know what I am?” she said. “Ravished.” Before Hawke could untangle himself—find some pants—and offer to cook for her, she was already pushing the blankets back to stand. “I’ll make us breakfast, love. You stay there.”
She always spoiled him, didn’t she?
Hawke laid back down as she headed across the room, specifically swaying her hips this way and that because she must have known Hawke was staring. She pushed the room divider back with a breath of magic, revealing their kitchen beyond it. The small apartment was their home away from home up in the mountains. No one bothered them here, not Hawke’s family or the lord she was supposed to be serving or anything else. Perfect place to simply disappear. It helped the view was nice—both inside and out.
She giggled, catching Hawke staring again. Wearing an old shirt of his that couldn’t hide her curves even if it tried, almost see-through in all the right places too. She’d pulled her red curls into a bun, showing off the nape of her neck and the pale freckles splashed across it that Hawke loved kissing, and hummed. She always did as she worked.
“I think eggs would be good today,” she called out and Hawke eased out a happy sigh. She took it as acceptance enough and bent over to gather the pans and eggs
and the air rippled.
Hawke forced himself to blink. This wasn’t right. He forced another one, heart racing, and propped up on his elbows. She’d never made breakfast. It was him. Magic was exhausting, she’d say time and time again, and he’d always wake early to make her a big breakfast so she started her day right. One of the few things he could help with. This—this wasn’t right. This wasn’t Trice. It couldn’t be. She wouldn’t be here.
“Hawke?” a new voice rippled through the kitchen and Hawke reoriented himself by rubbing his eyes. Vahn stood at the stove this time. His form much thinner than Trice’s underneath the old shirt and it showed off his bare legs. The light from the window in the kitchen hallowed him, making his hair shimmer and his red eyes twinkle. He smiled. “Why are you looking at me so?”
“And how’s that?” Hawke’s lips shifted to say, magic tumbling over his words like verses. His thoughts slurred together, pieces of them trying to tell him something important, and then Vahn was back in bed. Straddling Hawke’s lap. His skin was warm against Hawke’s and Hawke dropped into the pillow, jolted fully awake as though lightning had just struck him. Everything felt even more real as Vahn leaned in and ghosted kisses across Hawke’s jaw, down to his neck. Down and down, driving pleasure throughout Hawke until that was about all he thought about.
Except this wasn’t right either. Hawke held onto the wrongness, forcing himself to focus before Vahn—whatever this really was—locked his lips onto anything more sensitive. Hawke flinched, realizing how low he’d gotten, and hauled Vahn up by his shoulders. The maybe-magician huffed and magic coiled out of his breath with a shimmer. It was almost enough that Hawke let him go right back down, but he held firm.
“This would be easier,” the magic said, his voice twisting between Vahn’s and Trice’s tenor, and his form rippled like water, “if you gave in, you know. You’d have a lot of fun.”
The form continued rippling, making Hawke’s eyes burn, and he had to look away. His head was throbbing like he’d been dosed with something. He winced, trying to move whatever Vahn was off his lap, but it wrapped its legs tighter around Hawke and pushed a hand to his chest.
“What are you?” Hawke spat out, forcing his eyes open. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton as he spoke. Yep. Definitely drugged. Shit. He struggled to remember anything after they’d opened the mansion door.
“Desire made manifest,” Vahn’s and Trice’s voice said together, somehow combining Trice’s haughty explanations with Vahn’s genuine ones. The image stopped rippling on Vahn and he smiled wide—wider than any human probably could. “Come now, let me play out the desire just for you.”
Hawke felt around his chest for the damned coin. It was still there. The gold glinted against his fingers and the illusion of Vahn stilled, eyes locked on the coin. Its face twisted in rage and it would have been scary if it wasn’t using Vahn’s face. He couldn’t look mean even if he’d tried—Hawke was sure of that now. He pressed the coin to his eye and looked through the Solar Magic tickling his fingertips.
Vahn wasn’t there anymore. Nothing was but a heavy breeze pushing away from him. Hawke felt his throat with his free hand. There was magic spasming inside, reacting against whatever he must have drunk. He swallowed and tried to calm it down.
“All this is an illusion,” Hawke said.
And just like that, he snapped his eyes open to a dark room of cobwebs with a girl shaking him awake as hard as she could. He threw his arm out wide, dagger freed from his vest, but—thankfully, perhaps—he misaimed. The dagger swung too wide, but his arm still trapped the girl against the rickety nightstand. She grunted, catching his arm, and a lamp hit the floor with a shatter. Hawke threw out his other hand and covered her mouth before she screamed.
Then they were still. The girl’s blue eyes went wide and Hawke let his own gaze readjust to this new room. Bed. Cobwebs literally everywhere. Not the cabin in the mountains. Furniture covered in billowing white sheets. The room was dappled in the low evening light streaming in from a window uncovered across the room. Dust twinkled across the light, so much of it, Hawke was compelled to sneeze, but he held it back. Hawke blinked; there was no illusion here.
Curious.
He finally considered the girl. Soft blonde curls were pulled tight into a bun at the back of her head, a few ringlets escaping along the sides, and freckles covered her pale cheeks. But her eyes bore the same intensity Marla’s had. She even had the same wide face.
“When I release you,” Hawke said, his throat parched, “you will not scream. Do you promise me? I won’t hurt you.”
It was a risk. She could have been Marla’s daughter, or she could have been someone that looked like her sent to see when Hawke woke up. Hawke had no idea where he was aside from probably inside the mansion and worse, he had no idea where Vahn was. He needed information and this girl was as good as he was going to get. Thankfully, she nodded fervently, locking gazes with him, and he released her.
No scream. Thank the goddess.
She held still until Hawke took away his other arm and slotted the dagger back into its home. A long sigh drew out from her lungs and she settled a hand on her chest. She was wearing an old dress shirt that was much too long on her leaving the sleeves to drape across her hands, and a pair of loose trousers beneath that bunched at the ankles around old boots. What was worse, she looked emaciated underneath it all.
“I’m sorry,” the girl whispered and Hawke threw his legs over the side of the bed to stand. Not happening. Not with the way the room insisted on spinning. “I-I thought maybe you could help me, so I had to wake you. It’s never pleasant dragging someone from an illusion.” She fretted and pulled at her sleeves. “I’m Molly.”
Well, he’d found Marla’s kid.
“Name’s Hawke,” he said. “Your ma sent us.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “Truly? I-I thought she wasn’t getting my letters.”
Hawke winced. “She wasn’t—she—”
Molly puffed out her cheeks. “Luven lied to me. That bastard.” Hearing that word come from her mouth almost made Hawke snicker. She straightened and turned, hands on her hips. “We should leave before he figures out you woke up.”
“Hold on,” Hawke said and Molly whipped to face him with a glare. “You’re his apprentice, right? Catch me up here.” Maybe it would give him more time to not feel like he was going to vomit.
“I was. Am.” Molly crossed her arms tight. “I don’t want to be here any longer.”
Spoken like a girl who wanted no questions. Hawke glanced over his person. No one thought to disarm him of his knives, although his sword was gone. Panic shot through him and he felt around his chest for the lute strap. Not there. Shit. “My lute,” he breathed. “Where—”
Molly frowned. “Luven took it to keep in his office for now. Said it was enchanted somehow and he wanted to take it apart later. I couldn’t tell. Your sword’s probably with it. He said it was expensive. I’m also fairly sure he didn’t toss out your satchel.”
Later meant it was probably still safe for now. Hawke scrubbed his hands down his face. Shit. He still needed to find Vahn. “Where’s Vahn?” He glanced at the girl and no emotion crossed her face. “The magician that was with me? Blue hair?”
“In another room. Probably more guarded than this one,” Molly said and Hawke leveled a weary look on her. “Luven is far more interested in him than me and that’s why I want to leave. Now. I can’t go on my own.” She showed him her wrist. There was a black band across it. “Someone has to escort me off the premises or it’ll compel me back here or worse. While he’s distracted is my only shot.”
“What’s got him guarded?” Hawke asked and Molly scowled.
“I don’t know what they are—worse than the scarecrows in town.” She crossed her arms tight and stared so intently at him, if she was a stronger mage, he would have feared being set on fire. “They’re like husks of bodies or something. It’s not good. Magicians are trouble—better to cut your losses and get out while you still can.” She suddenly gripped his arm and tugged on it. “Please. Help me.”
“I’m not leaving Vahn.” Hawke gently took her hands away from his arm and stood. His head pounded so hard with the simple motion, he had to stand still and get used to standing until it ebbed. “Shit, what did he do to me?”
“He invited you to dine with him,” Molly explained. “You were a lost cause coming inside, but your magician friend should have seen what a bad idea it was. It’s obvious what Luven had planned and yet still, he agreed to eat with him.” She shook her head. “Why are magicians like this?”
“Shit, I don’t even remember that.”
“I dosed you both pretty bad.” Molly said quietly. “Him worse.” Hawke stared at her, but at least she looked apologetic and less willing to fight him. “Look, I’m sorry,” she added. “It was the only way he’d play with you instead of outright killing you. You’re no one to him.” She chewed on her lip and glanced at the door. It was open a crack and something creaked the floorboards outside. “If you promise to get me out of here—I’ll help you get to your friend. Then we can escape before he finishes his plan.”
“Plan?” Hawke asked.
She gazed toward the window. The sun had gone behind the trees, leaving the room drenched in cold blues and purples. “Every year, the two moons align and Lunar Aspected magicians get a boon of power. With this, he can drink the blood of magicians to augment his power.” Her voice lowered to a whisper as she set her eyes on Hawke. “Your friend is far more potent than me. Luven is going to kill him for it.”
Hawke hated magicians. There, he said it. Maybe Luven didn’t eat anyone, but drinking their blood had to count. He should never have entered that forest. It would have meant Vahn wouldn’t have been here because Diana wouldn’t have given him the tip. It would have meant Hawke wouldn’t have been dosed with magic or whatever it was Molly used and didn’t have such a blinding headache. They’d both be safe, if separate.
Maybe.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, aware of Molly watching him, and sighed.
“Here’s the plan,” he said, “we save my friend and then we get you back to your ma.”
Molly nodded. “Understood.” Perking up, she headed to the door and beckoned him over. “The mansion’s filled with magic, but it’s not as potent as Larkspur or the entryway around the door. Stick close and you won’t get lost.” She gasped and jutted her elbow out, pushing him back, and flattened herself against the wall.
Something ambled by, making the floorboard creak again. Magic must have fuzzed it in the dim candlelight in the hallway, making it appear like any other guard. Had a tabard with the lord’s colors on it, a hat snug on its head, and clinking pauldrons, but it moved like it forgot how. Hawke hurried to bring the coin to his eye before it continued on. The Solar Magic shimmered across his vision and his stomach twisted. The guard had a face with its eyes bored out and its mouth sewn shut.
They waited until its shambling footfalls were farther down the hall before Molly flew out of the door with practiced steps. Hawke hurried to keep up, straining his ears to listen to everything around them because his eyes were too easily tricked. Even with illusion magic, it didn’t hide how the house groaned with the telltale creak of an old place. More guards than Hawke figured, at least three up where they were doing a circuit around the balcony wrapping around the center of the mansion. There was a skylight letting in the moonlight and it shimmered, giving way to an entry hall below that looked immaculate. Hawke wasn’t about to be tricked. Didn’t sound immaculate given the way everything groaned and certainly didn’t smell fresh either. Whatever the guards really were, a certain rotting smell followed them and it was all Hawke could do not to gag when they had to follow one before ducking into an unused room.
Molly knew exactly where she was going, at least. She shoved Hawke into empty rooms, ducked him into small alcoves when a guard came too close, and kept alert. They continued along the balcony until they reached the other side and headed down a cramped hallway Hawke didn’t see until a guard walked out of it. Must have been spelled to be hidden. At the very end of the hall was a room with a double door, likely for esteemed guests, and Molly slipped in. As Hawke went to follow her, a hand gripped his shoulder.
He spun, shoving his arm outward. It connected with the guard’s neck and smashed it into the doorframe to the side. The guard made a gurgling noise and its other arm reached up. Hawke released it, sidestepping the swipe, but then the guard threw its entire weight against Hawke. They clattered into the room on top of one another, the husk much stronger than Hawke had given it credit for, and it ended up on top of Hawke with one of his own daggers in its hands. It drew the dagger high until Molly smashed it over the head with the broken leg of a nightstand. The guard flopped over like a dead fish and Hawke pushed it off.
“We’re tying this one up,” Hawke said.
Molly nodded and ran to the drapes to yank them down. They came away easily and she handed them over. They’d do in a pinch without actual rope. Hawke ripped the drapes into smaller strips and tied the guard’s arms and legs back against one another. At least it would be preoccupied if it woke up.
Hawke stood and drew his gaze over the room. It looked like his, but fancier. Moonlight now streamed in from the large windows overlooking a balcony he didn’t trust stepping out onto. It gave the room a silvery look until Molly began touching the glass sconces around the room. Flames ignited against the wicks within, sheathing the room in gold soon enough. In the center of the room beneath a flowing canopy was the bed and Vahn lay atop it. His wrists and ankles were bound to the bedposts and Hawke hurried over to undo them.
As soon as he neared, illusion magic parted and Hawke saw all the dried blood staining the once immaculate bedsheets of ivory and cream. It was even all over the canopy curtains Molly was tying back to keep out of the way. Peachy. Hawke swallowed his revulsion and untied one wrist and then the other as Molly worked on his ankles.
Vahn didn’t look hurt at least beyond the bruises on his wrists, but he certainly didn’t stir even when his limbs were released. His bag was gone, but Hawke figured as much. Something with Space Magic must have been just as interesting as the lute. Vahn was asleep, eyes flitting quickly back and forth beneath his eyelids.
Hawke waited. Molly watched him and he watched her. “Well?” he finally hissed. “How did you wake me exactly?”
“You nearly stabbed me,” Molly shot back, offended. “I’m not shaking a magician, especially not a Lunar one with moonlight everywhere.”
Fair point. Hawke bent over the bed and took Vahn’s shoulders in his hands. Vahn flinched—hopefully a good sign—and for lack of any other idea, Hawke shook him.
“Vahn,” he said as clear as he could, “wake up! It’s magic. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real! Wake up!”
Nothing. Beyond the initial flinch, Vahn was dead to the world. Hawke settled him gently on the pillows and eyed Molly. Damn. She’d been scared enough to retreat and hide behind the post of the bed like she was ready to bolt if Vahn got up and started casting magic.
“It’s an illusion dream,” Molly said quietly. “The spell latches onto a great desire and keeps you there as long as it can. Usually, it’s used to weaken the body and the mind. Sometimes until you starve and become a husk.” She frowned and glanced at the doorway. Explained the guards. “Luven showed me how it works—it’s rather awful.” She sadly looked at Vahn again. “You woke up fast, so you must have not believed your illusion. He must really believe in his.”
Fast was relative. Hawke still had no idea how long he was under. The ghost of the kisses flitted across his neck and trailed lower. He scrubbed his face again, trying to focus.
“Oh!” Molly’s face brightened. “You could try kissing him.”
Of all the ideas. Hawke settled a weary look on her. “How the hells is that going to help?”
“Like the fairy tale,” Molly insisted like it was obvious. “Remember? The princess in the tower? It was said she was under an illusion dream as well and a kiss from her true love awoke her.”
There was so much wrong with that summary, Hawke didn’t know where to start. He eased out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “One: the kiss didn’t wake her—not in the original. And two: her ‘true love’ took advantage of her comatose body to do whatever he wanted to her. Nothing dreamy about that. And three: I am not kissing an unconscious person, much less a magician.”
Molly pouted. “I thought the story was romantic…”
“Not the original.” Hawke gazed over Vahn again and tried to think. “Just promise me if anyone ever tries to kiss you without your consent like in the stories, you punch them.”
“I guess,” Molly grumbled.
Illusion Magic. Dream. Molly had said she’d dosed them. Hawke chewed on his lip and his gaze fell on the bangles glistening in the candlelight. They were humming again, but this was so faint, he wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t tried. He glanced at Molly who’d chanced coming closer. “Hey, you said you dosed us? With what?”
“High concentration of magic in your wine,” Molly said, raising her eyebrows. “I pushed in an illusion to make you sleep and Luven set up the dream once it was in your system.” She gazed at Vahn and frowned. “I put a lot in his drink.”
“But it’s inside him?”
“Yes?”
Hawke pointed at the bangles. “You know what those are?”
It took Molly a moment before she gasped and covered her mouth. “Magic dampeners!”
“Think they’ll be able to sap the magic away?”
“Maybe?” Molly leaned closer and touched a finger to the bangle. She flinched, immediately withdrawing her hand, and nodded. “What do you want to do? He has to cast a spell, right?”
“Not necessarily,” Hawke said, remembering the forest. “The bangles just have to believe he did the spell. Think you can do something to the bangle? Maybe it’ll work.”
Hawke certainly hoped so and resolved to apologize to Vahn later. He had no other idea how to wake the poor guy up.
Molly thought for a moment before she returned her finger to the bangle. Magic hummed across her hands and glimmered gold. “Sun, hear my plea,” she chanted, her words uneven compared to Vahn’s mastery of enunciation. “Ring around the bangle in fire if you so desire.”
Sunlight sparkled against her fingertip and sparked the line she made across the bangle until the whole thing lit up. It made Hawke jump, ready to throw something on it to stop it from growing, but the bangle hummed, the sound oscillating the air around it, then the flame was gone. What was left behind was a cold emptiness even Hawke felt. Vahn’s eyes stopped flitting, his breathing hitched, and his lips shifted like he was experiencing something unpleasant. Enough of that. Hawke drew Vahn’s wrists in and pressed the bangles together. They clinked upon touching, a new hum reverberating across them, and the emptiness filled. Molly had hidden behind Hawke and she peered over his shoulder as he placed Vahn’s arms back down.
“Vahn?” Hawke tried again, but Vahn didn’t quite stir. “Come on, you gotta hear me. Wake up.” Hawke reached over to shake him once more, and this time, Vahn’s face screwed up like someone having a rude awakening. He opened his eyes, blinked, and looked at Hawke. His red eyes twinkled like fire in the candlelight. Hawke wasn’t sure what he was expecting when Vahn woke up, but the sad look in his eyes wasn’t it.
Hawke helped him sit up. “Are you all right?”
Vahn’s gaze remained distant, wonder all but gone. He pressed a hand to his head, wincing, and thumped back into the pillows with an exhale. “I understand now,” he whispered, “why Illusion Magic was once known as Evil Magic.” He pressed a palm to one eye and then the next before opening them fully. “It was so easy to believe they were alive and he doesn’t even know them.”
“The spell hones in on memory,” Molly whispered and shrank back as Vahn glanced at her. “I’m so sorry—I should have done something—”
Vahn propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s not your fault. You’re his apprentice. You do what he asks within reason and you hardly know what all the magic does or will do. He’s simply using you.” Wincing, Vahn turned to sit and let Hawke help him stand. Vahn looked him up and down suddenly and gasped. “Our things?”
“He has your bag too,” Molly said. “He wanted to dissect its magic.”
“And my lute for the same reason,” Hawke said. “Look, this is dangerous. I can cut my losses.”
“It’s dangerous, yes.” Vahn was nodding, but Hawke doubted they were talking about the same thing. “If we allow him to continue like this, he will ruin Larkspur and who’s to say he won’t go farther? He’s already killed apprentices for their magic. Without a place to draw on, he’d eventually wilt, but we need to make him wilt now.” He gazed back at the bed and drew his mouth tight. “He won’t stop if we simply leave.”
Molly blinked. “Y-You know what he does?”
Vahn stared at her, incredulous. “I noticed it first thing when we sat down for dinner. The magic he uses now resists him because it’s not his. With the moons aligning, he’ll be granted a boon which remedies it slightly, but nothing he does is inherently his power.”
At least one of them remembered the dinner. Hawke couldn’t follow the rest of the explanation, but Molly was giving little nods like she completely followed Vahn’s logic. All Hawke knew was Luven drank the blood of apprentices, got powerful with moons, and then moved on to the next one. And he hated that Vahn was right. Luven wouldn’t stop even if they took Molly away. He’d simply take another magic prone kid away from Larkspur and start all over again.
He swallowed and Vahn gave him such a hopeful look that Hawke wouldn’t have been able to say no even if it’d been his intent.
“Fine,” Hawke said. “We’ll take him down. How are we going to do that?”
Vahn matched his gaze for a moment, sheer determination piecing a plan together, and then he peered around Hawke to the guard still wrapped in the curtain. Vahn’s lips stretched into a coy smile. “I have an idea.”
🙡🙢
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