V. To Trick an Illuionist
Given the sour look Hawke gave Vahn, he thought very poorly of Vahn’s idea. So did Vahn, if he was being honest, but it was all he had. They stripped the tabard and hat off the poor husk of a guard, even taking its sword, and Hawke threw them all on. A little loose, but Vahn doubted all the husks fit the armor well. So long as he looked the part—and he would as soon as Vahn obscured his face with shadow magic. Only needed a little bit to cover the eyes and unstitched mouth. Illusion Magic would be better, but Vahn had no idea where to start, so shadows it was. Hawke fidgeted as Vahn traced his face gently with his fingers, pulling shadows across it, but soon it was done. Practically perfect.
As Vahn had worked, Molly had bent close to look at the poor drained body that had become the guard. She stared at it, gaze unwavering, and Vahn looked as well. Molted skin, hair in patches of the red it used to be, eyes entirely gone, and mouth stitched crookedly to prevent any screaming. Gruesome and all marionetted as something alive because of a mix of Illusion and Lunar Magic.
Hawke and Vahn exchanged a worried look. “Molly?”
She blinked, sparkling tears falling down her cheeks she hurried to wipe. “Sorry. One of the guards is my father.” She stood and Hawke gave her a knife from his vest. “I’m sure of it. I just had to check. I don’t think it’s this one.”
“How do you know?” Hawke asked.
Molly sniffled and shook her head. “One night, I found the ring my mother gave him when they got married. I’ve been watching for him ever since. Except they’re all so gruesome. I just…”
Vahn shared another look with Hawke; the shadows covered whatever expression he’d given, but Vahn didn’t need to see it to know they both felt the same pang of sadness. It was tragic and Vahn couldn’t fix it. He gently touched Molly’s shoulder. “He’s gone,” he said quietly. “Even if you found which one was him, the magic’s already twisted away who he was before. These are husks—empty of everything else but a spell.”
More tears slid down her cheeks and her shoulders trembled. “I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I-If I s-said no—if I just—”
“You didn’t know any better,” Hawke insisted. “We’re alive and we can stop him.”
Vahn only hoped so. He rubbed Molly’s shoulder until she managed to get her sobs under control. “You remember where our belongings are?”
Molly nodded. “In his office through a doorway only he and I can see. Bags. Lute. Sword.” She clutched the knife closer. “Knife in case something stops me.”
Vahn nodded. “I’m going to teach you a spell now for my bag. Ready?”
Her eyes went wide and there was pure curiosity past the resignation. “It’s Space Magic—he told me. I can’t do that. It’s too advanced.”
“It’s molded Space Magic—totally different than making something up on your own. This wants to be helpful.” Vahn bent to be more level with Molly. “Tell it the command just like this: Space, I beseech you: return to me the jar of firebird embers.” He waited until Molly repeated the command verbatim. Her enunciation needed work, but she got the words across. “It’s a small jar and warm to the touch.”
Molly repeated him a second time and parsed the words slower. She tilted her head. “What are the embers for?”
“Sun in a pinch,” Vahn said. “If he uses any illusions, it’ll help dispel them.”
Molly nodded and inhaled. “Against the main staircase, there’s a magically hidden door. He should still be there in the basement preparing the ritual to… you know.” She waved a hand at Vahn. “H-He’ll be using a staff to draw the sigils.”
Sigils were used for larger spells and borrowed power from the gods themselves. Never something to be used lightly and Vahn bit back his unease. Children were likely done without the sigils, but if Luven fully expected to rip the magic out of Vahn, he’d have to do it the hard way.
“Meet us down there when you have our things,” Vahn said. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Molly ran off, footsteps light, and was gone before Vahn could regret the plan. He hoped she didn’t need to use the knife. As it was, he hated she went off alone, but they all agreed to really trick Luven, Vahn couldn’t confront him alone and needed a husk. Since enchanting one was too complex—Luven’s spell work was too intricate—they’d opted to dress Hawke up.
Hawke came closer, the tabard pauldrons clinking together, and Vahn tried smiling at him to hide the way worry uncoiled in his stomach. He offered his wrists for Hawke.
“The guards are brutes,” Vahn said. “I vaguely remember it before I passed out earlier. Don’t be afraid to be rough with me when we get down there.”
Hawke took the magic chains they’d lifted off the husk earlier and looped them around Vahn’s wrists. Tight enough to fool anyone glancing at them, but loose enough, Vahn could throw them off at a moment’s notice. It paid to have dainty wrists sometimes. What worried Vahn, however, was that Hawke hadn’t replied. He’d expected something short and quippy. Vahn gently touched his hand.
“I’ll be fine,” Vahn insisted, saying it aloud to convince him of the very same.
“You didn’t wake up right away.”
Vahn’s body tensed and his pulse thundered in his ears. No. He wouldn’t entertain the thought again. It would make it that much easier for Luven to take advantage of a burning desire. “I saw…” He swallowed and glanced away. It would be better to say it aloud. Convince himself it wasn’t real. “I was with my parents. Having dinner. T-They were alive.” He’d blocked out their faces long ago, so when they’d come through so clear and real in the illusion, he’d simply believed. “I know they are dead. Have been for many years. I will not be fooled again. I promise.”
Hawke must have stared sadly at him, but Vahn was glad for the veil of shadows so he couldn’t see it. Vahn forced a smile on his own lips and exhaled.
“You ready to trick an illusionist?” he asked.
Hawke took another moment before he tightened his fingers across the enchanted chains. “As long as you are; you’re the one getting roughed up.”
☾
The disguise worked way better than Vahn anticipated. Even if they walked by a husk on their way down to the basements, they weren’t given a second glance. A relief, but Vahn doubted it would work quite as well with Luven. He’d notice before long. Hawke was simply too alive compared to the shambling husks and no one could quite hide that fact.
They headed down the main staircase covered in an illusion to hide its decay and entered the great hall. It hid its decay about as well as the stairs. Tall windows let the bountiful moonlight wash inside through sheer curtains Vahn knew were ripped and stained if not for the magic. The tiled flooring glimmered between pristine and dull. Vahn only wished he had his glasses; Luven must have thrown them in his bag shortly after Vahn passed out. At least, Vahn hoped so.
All he could do now to push back the illusion was his memory of what everything had looked like before. Although, try as he might, Luven’s face remained elusive. All Vahn remembered with clarity was the way he’d swirled his wine. How easily Vahn had drunk his own, fully believing he could fight whatever magic was inside. He hadn’t expected the full attack on his senses, the way everything shot white and bright, especially not when Hawke fell first and he’d panicked. His own hubris led to this and he hated it.
“I’m… sorry,” Vahn whispered as Hawke led him around to the magically hidden door for the basement beneath the main staircase. Right where Molly said it was. “For what happened.”
“What for?” Hawke asked. “We were both drugged.”
Vahn fidgeted with the chain links. The sconces holding candles gave the spiraling staircase a ghostly glow as it reacted against illusion magic that had nothing to do in here. “I knew he’d laced them,” Vahn admitted, noting the way Hawke’s shoulders tensed. “I just… I thought I could fight back while playing his game.” He glanced up and only found the veil of shadows greeting him in return. “I should have been more careful, especially since you were there with no defenses of your own. It was… unwise of me and I apologize.”
The words were thick on Vahn’s tongue. He hated admitting fault. In the Floating University, it meant his peers would jump on it to prove they were better while ignoring their own list of faults. It was better there not to admit to them at all, but Vahn didn’t feel right not apologizing to Hawke.
The silence was thick as they descended downward, but eventually, Hawke squeezed Vahn’s shoulder reassuringly. “We know better now,” he said. “We should focus.”
Yes. Focus. Not on the magic tumbling out with Hawke’s words or how thinly veiled his apprehension was. But rather their plan. The very poor plan. Vahn gazed at the spiraling staircase made of wood and the absolute darkness around turns until another candle blazed bright. At the end, the light became brighter as the stairwell opened into a large room.
They stepped out onto a wooden balcony wrapped around the outside of the room. Below, the floor and walls were made of stone. Someone had carved countless sigils already, each one thrumming with power, and above the largest circle of sigils was an orb sticking out of the ceiling. It showed the night sky above the mansion with magic and both moons were arcing slowly into view. Candles lit the place with warm hues, glinting off the candelabras holding them aloft, and it was then Vahn realized there was no illusion magic here. The room showed itself as it was.
He should have thought of a different item to call from his bag.
Luven, the illusionist himself, stood near the front of the massive circle he’d emblazoned on the slab. The magic staff he held was exquisitely crafted from a metal alloy only made in the Floating World. At one end, the metal wrapped around crystals once soaked in everlasting sunlight from a country with untold daylight. The stones themselves powered allowed Luven to burn the sigils into the stone. Without it, he would have had to hand carve it, which would have worked more in their favor. He was farther along than Vahn had hoped for.
Luven himself was a man of tall stature, pale skin absent of much color if not for the gold highlights from the candles, and he had his dusty blonde hair pulled back in a loose ribbon. Handsome nose, blue eyes, and high cheeks. He looked like what fairy tales painted lords as, but Vahn wondered if it was simply the way he’d drawn the magic into himself once he drained fledgling magicians dry.
The act wasn’t unheard of, not even in the Floating World, but Vahn wouldn’t describe it as magicians eating other magicians, although he was beginning to reconsider his stance. It was barbaric in either world, but hypocrisy kept it alive up above when older magicians sought the same rituals to regain what they lost with age, insisting they had more right to live than another. Sometimes weaker students in the Floating Universities disappeared and the rumor was their magic was drained dry so it simply wasn’t wasted. Vahn always ignored the rumors, but now he wondered how true they were.
It made his stomach churn.
Luven looked up, the ignited tip of the staff dulling as he pulled it from the stone. A flash of a question carefully sewed itself into constructed guile to hide his surprise.
“I see you’re awake,” he murmured, eyes flicking to Hawke and then back. No concern flashed his features. “Not fast enough to leave before one of them got you, however. Curious.” Luven straightened his back and nodded at Hawke. “Bring him down here and be quick about it.”
Magic followed his words and any other guard would have reacted immediately. Hawke, however, hesitated the slightest bit, but Luven had already brought his attention back to the sigil he was finishing. Hawke’s hand caught Vahn’s elbow and thankfully, he took Vahn’s earlier words to heart, and eschewed being soft when he yanked Vahn down the stairs.
Vahn let himself tumble and quickly regained his posture before he fell outright and prompt Hawke to drop the act in response. Luven was watching them again, suddenly curious, and Vahn glared at him right back as they reached the bottom of the steps. The magic from the sigils vibrated below Vahn, coiling through his feet and into his legs.
“You took my bag,” Vahn said, trying to sound indignant. “I wanted it back.”
“Masterful work, you know.” Luven leaned on the staff and glanced Vahn up and down. The man looked exhausted this close and definitely in need of a ritual if he planned to keep all the illusions going. “All I’ve been able to discern is that it’s Space Magic and all your things are somehow inside, yet every time I plunge my hand inside, I find not a one. I’m sure I will crack it in time.”
Vahn stopped from rolling his eyes; attempting to crack the bag would simply close the magic loop that kept Vahn’s items in some nebulous space even he didn’t quite understand.
“Oh, come now, even a homegrown hedge magician like me knows a thing or two,” Luven teased. “Do you really think you’re so much better up there?”
Vahn drew himself tall, but it wasn’t like it did him much good. Luven was about as tall as Hawke. “What you’re doing here with your apprentices is barbaric.”
Luven raised his eyebrows. “And stealing impressionable children from their own parents to drag them into the Floating World isn’t?” He chuckled when Vahn snapped his mouth shut. It was a false equivalency and Luven knew it. “All I’m doing is giving them… options.”
“You kill them,” Vahn argued, unable to keep his voice level. Hawke’s fingers tightened around his elbow and he tried to rein in the emotion. “That is not an option. I know you’re misusing Lunar Magic to drain them when the moons align. This is barbaric and you know it.”
Luven smiled. “The problem, I think, with Wayfarer Magicians like you is that you believe the lie they tell you.” He spread his arms and the room trembled. Power grew along the symbols and Vahn had to blink to see past the sheen of magic oscillating right in front of him. “The lie that those up high are powerful and those down here are slaves to magic gone wild. We are not and never were. We just have to make the power ours and if that means curbing some of the population, so be it. They’re in a better place, as the saying goes.” He struck the end of the staff on the stone. “I will take the power that’s owed to me and tonight, it will come from you.”
The illusions were all a way to keep Larkspur complacent when girls with magic went missing. The forest was merely to bring back the sold fake items to cover the city’s tracks. All so one magician could better himself until the next time the moons aligned. It would never end on its own.
Magic coursed through the room, making Vahn’s skin prickle, and he pushed into Hawke with a step back. It was their signal; Hawke let go and charged Luven. The man was expecting magic—not a physical attack.
Except, Luven wasn’t surprised. He threw one arm out and the shadows stark in the deep reaches of the room shot out, gripping Hawke. Vahn hardly had a counter spell ready before the shadows chucked Hawke into the wooden debris hidden beneath the balcony awnings along the back.
Vahn tossed the chains, freeing his hands, but hesitated as Luven pointed the staff at him. The alloy sung with magic and the orb at the end shimmered like fire.
“You think you’re smart?” Luven sneered. “My guards do not breathe, boy and neither do they hesitate. Although I thank you for a new toy. Air.” He snapped his gaze at Hawke. “I command thee: bring to me my newest puppet.”
Oh, hells.
Hawke threw himself out of the pile of wood, hat and shadows gone. His eyes were wide as his legs unnaturally lumbered him to Luven’s side. His borrowed sword slid out of the pile and he bent to pick it up. The air was twisting around his limbs like a vice, forcing him to move.
Luven grinned. “Help our puppet control our unruly guest.”
The magic shot Hawke forward, right at Vahn, and swung his arm and the blade. Vahn pivoted to the side, dodging it just barely.
“Shit!” Hawke choked out. “Vahn—”
“I know!” Vahn snapped, ducking low as the blade swung over his head. “Air, I beseech you—Ah!” He dodged again, tumbling over his incantation, and the blade struck down where he’d been, crushing the stone.
Luven was hardly paying attention to the fight. He’d lit the end of the staff once again and began another sigil. It must have been the last one. All he’d need then was moonlight—which he already had right there in the orb in the ceiling—and then Vahn.
This plan was bad from the moment they stepped inside.
Hawke came again, movements more fluid as the spell bore his resistance down, and Vahn threw himself out of the way as he intoned a spell under his breath. Air was easily malleable—he never had to be loud—and his magic sung through his limbs as he concentrated on the air around Hawke. It snared him still and he used it to throw the poor man at Luven. Hawke braced for impact, but he stopped just short of Luven’s outstretched hand. The air kept him there, suspended, and Vahn tore the lingering energy from the sigils.
“Lightning! Hear my command and strike!”
Luven let Hawke clatter to the ground as an arc of lightning shot through the air. He dodged it just barely, eyes wide. Though the lightning dispersed, it left enough sparks tingling in the air that Vahn simply recollected it in his palm. The sparks circled his hand and his bangles hummed at the exertion, but before he could strike again, Luven laughed.
“You’ve got more bite in you than I thought!” Luven said and Hawke jerked unnaturally back up. “But you will end up chained just like them. It won’t be any different for you, so stop pretending you’re so much better than me!” He hurled Hawke at Vahn again, sword swinging high, and Vahn threw himself to the side to dodge. “Except you’ll simply have to live with it. Live with the lie they’ve told themselves for eons!”
Vahn charged another attack, but he’d lost track of Hawke. He turned, eyes wide, and Hawke’s hand cracked across his face. The apology was drowned out with ringing as Vahn staggered and the hesitation cost him; a fist solidly connected with his stomach, making him gasp, and before he clattered to the floor, Hawke’s arms wrenched him upright. Then there was a knife to his throat.
“Shit! Shit—shit!” Hawke hissed.
“I am fine,” Vahn lied, quickly dipping his head further back against Hawke’s chest as the blade held firm. The magic was too focused, too raw around Hawke and Vahn couldn’t risk gripping it to get control. It might flay Hawke alive with two opposing directions. As it was, Hawke’s arms were too strong to get out of with normal means.
Luven was smirking as he straightened his back. The glyphs and sigils were complete. Three interconnected rings signifying both moons and the world itself. Inside were sigils of various shapes and sizes all denoting the moon, blood, and water. Power thrummed free from the slab, making Vahn’s bones shake even worse than before, and it glimmered into view as a multicolor sheen working its way around the room.
“And now, I have need of my lovely assistant.” Luven pursed his lips and tilted his head. “Where have you sent her? Not outside, I hope. That band will tear her arm off.”
Molly hardly had any magic to use to be of any help. Vahn studied Luven for a moment before it dawned on him. He gasped. “What?” he breathed, struggling to move, but Hawke’s arm tightened across his chest. “You made her into the Illusion Spell focus?”
It made sense how she was able to dose them so completely without knowing how. Luven’s magic was simply acting through her because he’d primed all the Illusion Spells inside her. It was why the guards ignored her. Why nothing would harm her aside from that band on her wrist. Vahn’s body trembled with the ramifications. It was why she was as thin as she was. It wasn’t using Luven’s own energy and body; it was using hers.
“No one’s as quick to hurt a child as they are anything else I could make,” Luven said.
“How long have you kept her like that?” Vahn asked, wracking his brain to remember how long Marla had said Molly was gone. He couldn’t remember. “Too long and she’ll disintegrate because the spells will eat her away! It’s already happening!”
It was the reason he did the rituals. Take what was left of the apprentice before magic ate through them completely. The only thing that would stop the spells was the caster—either through death or simply unmaking the spell exactly as it was put in.
“What?” A little squeak came from above. Molly had her hand poised with the firebird ember jar, like she intended to spill it, but she’d stilled. Vahn saw the spells clearly now and cursed his inability to realize it sooner.
“Ah, my little dove. Come here.” Luven cocked his head and Molly squeaked as the air gripped her. It threw her over the balcony railing and gently settled her on the floor in front of Luven. The firebird embers hit the ground, spilling as the jar shattered.
Vahn breathed in. “I am so sorry, Hawke.” He drove his elbow downward and into Hawke’s groin. Luven was distracted enough, the air had loosened and thankfully, the knife did not drive itself into Vahn’s throat. Hawke hissed in pain, sinking to the ground, and Vahn shot forward. Until Luven jerked Molly to face him and Vahn stopped himself short. In her little hands was the knife Hawke had given her and she held it against her neck.
“Break the spell, boy,” Luven said, hand tight against Molly’s shoulder. “See what will happen. I’m sure you already know.”
Vahn swallowed. It wasn’t air keeping her like this; Luven was manipulating her blood and that required touch, hence the hand on her shoulder. Vahn’s pulse thundered in his ears as he tried to think. He didn’t know what to do.
“You are weak,” Luven said slowly. “All that magic is wasted on the likes of you.” His mouth twisted into a scowl, cutting deep wrinkles into his face. “Do you know how easy it was to simply let go?” His hand tightened on Molly’s shoulder. “Weaving spells into blood is so easy and yet your self-righteousness will keep you weak.”
“It was me,” Molly whispered.
Luven caressed her face. She didn’t flinch; the spell simply held her too tightly. “Why yes, my little dove You needed to protect yourself—me. All those adventurers would have harmed you. Us.” He smiled cruelly even as Vahn shook his head for him to stop. He was trying to will an emotion of the poor girl to ignite her magic and it was going to go poorly. “You were their demise. All I had to do was give you all the power and all your illusions dragged them so deeply, they could never recover.” He laughed, even as Molly’s eyes grew wider.
“Molly,” Vahn whispered, but Luven’s laughter drowned him out. “Molly—please. Look at me.”
“The city has a wealth of magic brats your precious Floating World wants nothing to do with.” Luven’s smile didn’t wane even as Vahn glared at him. “Too weak to matter to them, but I know better. Even the smallest flower can bloom the prettiest. I will do what I want with them.”
“It was me.” Tears streaked out of Molly’s eyes. She was shaking despite the spell. Magic raged through her, reacting to whatever emotion she was feeling. Anger, terror, despair—all of it rolled into one. “It was me!” she cried, louder, and Luven froze, eyes wide.
“Molly!” Vahn shouted as the magic continued twisting around her. “Luven—let her go—”
“I killed my father—all those people who came to save me!” The last word ended in a scream and it pushed through the air in the room. The candles blew out, sheathing them in darkness if not for the firebird embers glimmering against the stone.
“It was all me,” Molly whispered, her voice cracking.
Luven made a mistake then. He tightened his grip against Molly in an attempt to control the outburst he’d egged on. Vahn couldn’t warn him before the blown air returned with an audible snap, surging Luven entirely.
His head popped like a balloon from the force.
It splattered across Molly, drenching her hair, and hit Vahn the same. Her volatile magic sung louder inside her, crackling across the air as it lashed out in a panic, and Molly screamed as she ducked low to cover her head. Hawke was up, but Vahn held up a hand to stop him.
“Stay there,” he ordered and Hawke stuttered himself still.
Magic was unstable even under the best of circumstances. When magicians died, their magic lingered until it either dispersed on its own or someone took it as theirs. All of Luven’s magic still coursed through Molly and it would simply join with hers, which with her panic, was on the cusp of igniting fully. Vahn knew how it felt, even if he hardly recalled the finer details from his own magic awakening because of the drugs the Floating World had given him when he arrived to help soften the memories.
With gentle steps, he came to Molly’s side and knelt in front of her. She jerked her gaze at him, panicking. The color in her eyes melted from their soft blue to a bright yellow. Her hair soaked in the blood, turning her curls a deep red. All because of her magic.
“It’ll be okay,” Vahn whispered. “I promise. I—” He froze as Molly threw her arms wide and tucked herself below Vahn’s chin in a tight hug. She was doing better than Vahn had when his magic had awakened. Small miracles. He gently wrapped his arms around her as she cried into his chest. “Magic is temperamental,” he explained slowly. “I know what this is like—I know what you’re going through, but you can control it. All of it is part of you now, I promise. He is gone and will never control it again.”
Vahn even glanced over her head to make sure. Yep. Luven was dead. With all the gore where it splattered and the puddle of blood growing beneath his headless body, no one could come back from that.
Molly was nodding, even as she sobbed. The magic in the air quelled, becoming but a dull glimmer, and Vahn gazed back at Hawke. Magic flickered bright at the stairwell behind him. Fire. Vahn’s eyes went wide and darted to the spilled embers. They had ignited from Molly’s burst of magic, coating anything wooden in bright flames. Hawke had stripped the tabard off and was trying to put out the fire, but the inferno simply raced up the stairs.
“Hawke!” Vahn shouted.
Hawke dropped the ruined tabard and ran over. He had Molly gathered in his arms in seconds, even everything of theirs she had strapped to her back, and Vahn went first into the inferno. It coated his skin and he intoned spell after spell to give them a path until his head was pounding from the exertion. No matter how many spells, however, the fire continued racing, following Molly’s emotional outburst to damn everything Luven touched. The illusions were all gone, leaving the ghost of the mansion as it went up and all the husks were dead heaps on the floor. Nothing was alive to stop them as they came up the stairs and raced out the front doors.
The night air was cold against Vahn’s skin and he wanted to keep running—get as far away from the mansion as possible—but Hawke’s legs gave out and he stumbled to a stop in front of the broken fountain. Just as well. Vahn let his legs fold under him too. The magic was following Molly’s rage; chances were, it would only consume the mansion until nothing was left but embers and ash and then dissipate.
Catching his breath proved difficult; Vahn’s chest wracked with coughs, making his vision blur, and he willed some concentration together to help himself. Pressing a hand to his chest, he concentrated on the air and smoke inside his lungs. The trickle of a spell hummed on his lips and he pulled the smoke free. It felt like a thread coming up his throat and the sensation made him want to gag, but it was out and that was better. He did the same to Hawke (who looked mildly uncomfortable) and then Molly (who looked like she was going to be sick, but thankfully held it in) and soon the three of them were breathing easier.
“I’m so sorry.” Molly’s voice was incredibly weak as she spoke, barely heard above the crackling fire. “I didn’t mean to—I just—”
“We’re safe,” Vahn said as she wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry he used you like that—used so many more children like that and the city did nothing to stop it.”
Molly stared at Vahn, tears sparkling in her newfound yellow eyes. “He was right, though. No one who could stop it cares. You saw what he did to you both. E-Even if the city decided to rise up, he could have killed them all by turning them against one another.”
Part of Vahn wanted to argue, the part of him wanting to be the magician that helped people down here, but he kept the argument in his throat. Evidence overwhelmingly suggested those above indeed did not care. It was likely the same in cities far from the High Magician influences and nothing would change it short of complete disaster.
Vahn swallowed and nodded. “I am sorry,” Vahn said. “It won’t bring anyone back, but I am truly sorry for what he’s put you and everyone through.”
Hawke suddenly hissed in a breath, making Vahn jump, and he jerked to look at the man. Still alive, nothing broken. He was covering his mouth as he gazed back at the mansion.
“Shit,” he said. “With him gone, those illusions are gone too, right?”
Vahn slowed. “Yes?”
“City’s gonna be pissed.”
Oh, for the love of the goddess. Vahn closed his eyes, just to rest them, and exhaled any bubbling frustration. One thing at a time. He opened his eyes to some clarity of mind and peered up at the sky. How long before dawn? The Goddess Moon had already set, quick as she was to rise and fall, and the Dragon Moon was slowly heading after her. When it touched the horizon, the sun would be rising on the other side. Not long now.
He gently stood and helped Molly follow him up. Her legs were trembling below her, likely not yet used to the new power rushing through her.
“We’ll get her home and then leave,” Vahn said.
He saw it in Molly’s eyes that she did not want to return. That she had a question primed and he hoped she did not ask it. They’d promised her mother they’d return her after all. Besides, he was a magician from the Floating World. She was not and hopefully, would never be.
“C-Can you—”
“No,” Vahn said swiftly and clearly. “You don’t want to follow me.” Because then she’d have to let go of everything she loved down here. “And I’m sure your mother wants you home.”
Whatever else she’d been burning to say, she swallowed down and handed them back their belongings. “I’m sorry I wasted your firebird embers,” she whispered instead.
“I can always find more.” Vahn smiled at her and checked his bag. Magic exactly where he’d left it. “Do not be sorry.” As he swung his bag over his shoulder, Hawke tossed a cloth at him, making him yelp.
“Clean your face,” Hawke insisted. “You walk into the city like that and people will think the worst.”
Molly glanced up at Vahn and stifled a giggle. Not that she was much better, though at least the magic had soaked the blood into her hair. Mentally, Vahn decided not to tell her mother about that. A little grisly, even if no harm was done. Vahn conjured a mirror from the air in front of himself and grimaced. Blood caked his own hair and had half his face. He wiped it, letting scant traces of Solar Magic loosen some of the blood and his face and hair came away visually clean. Needed a proper scrub later. He let Molly do the same to her own face—teaching her the Solar spell he’d used—before he tossed the bloodied rag into his bag to clean later.
“Well,” he said and cast one last glance at the burning mansion. “We’d better get you home.”
No one had any objections and though all Vahn wanted to do was sleep at this point—eat a big meal maybe or have a really nice long soak—the three of them began the trek back to the city.
☾
Morning came quickly. They arrived in Larkspur as dawn golden light peeled across the sky, scattered because of the smoke from the mansion. Merchants were just setting up their stalls, only to find their wares banal and some of them with money made of flat stones. The illusions had been stolen away, leaving the city a shell of its former self. Broken streets, flowers withered in their pots, and everything so drab in comparison to earlier. Hawke hurried them through the streets with honeyed words for anyone who thought to stop them with their concerns about this weird red-headed child trailing after them. It was only after a buzz of activity worked its way through the city about the illusion being gone and the smoke from the mountain did they find Marla’s house tucked away past the taverns.
After a tight, tear-filled embrace, Marla took one look at her daughter and glanced between Vahn and Hawke. “You two need a way out?” she asked, eyebrows high. “I’m getting the hells out of here. I’ve got family maybe two days ride out. Could take you to the first fork in the road, if you’d like.”
Vahn and Hawke didn’t bother discussing it. Out was good. Especially as the city was definitely going to blame someone for the sudden change and as the newest faces in town, they were in danger. Marla had a cart filled with her scant belongings shortly with Hawke’s help and they were on the road out through a backstreet while real guards struggled to maintain order with the growing panic.
Molly slept up front with her mother, safely tucked under her arm in a cloak, and Marla held the reins of their draft horse. Vahn and Hawke sat in the back with her belongings, watching the city roll away from them to make sure no one was coming after them.
No one was, thankfully, and Vahn let himself relax a little bit, stretching out his legs. It wasn’t long before guilt wormed its way through his chest. It was his fault the city was thrust back to its stark reality. Perhaps they should have been eased into it, but then again, he thought of Molly and all the other fledgling magicians the city willfully handed over and never cared to look for when they disappeared completely.
He found himself sighing—there had been no good ending for Larkspur no matter what he’d done or didn’t do—and he drew his cardigan around himself. His usual coat was shoved into his bag to be cleaned as soon as he had time to stay still and concentrate, but his cardigan wasn’t so bad. Kept him pleasantly warm with the charm a fellow student had spelled into the fabric. Good in the winter and on chilly days like now. Since charms and spells dissipated when the magician passed, he was relieved to find it still warm.
“So.” Hawke had been strumming his lute listlessly as he tuned it. Vahn was glad it’d come out unscathed. “We went there hoping to learn something, right?” He glanced at Vahn, raising his eyebrows. “Learn anything of note?”
Vahn shrugged. He remembered his mother’s face. His father’s, but that wasn’t what he’d gone to learn. He hadn’t wanted to. “Just that my professors were right to warn us to be wary of Illusion Magic.” He tipped his head back and stared at the blue sky unfolding against the dawn’s golden hues. “It can be frighteningly real.”
“Hey,” Hawke said softly and Vahn glanced at him. Worry was too evident on his face now without the shadows and Vahn cut his gaze away again. “Are you okay? Would it help to talk about what you saw?”
There was genuine concern there, flustering Vahn. He wanted to tell him no, but something about Hawke made his lips start moving of their own accord.
“A High Magician came down here to get me when I was young because I had magic,” he explained. “My parents were farmers. I was helping them with Wild Magic that just listened to me. I was too strong to leave there, so I was going to be taken away.” His voice quieted of its own accord and his hands began to tremble. “I was ten. My parents didn’t want me to leave. I panicked to their panic and my magic reacted like hers.” He glanced over his shoulder at Molly’s crop of newly turned red hair peeking out of her cloak. “The High Magician was prepared. My parents were not. They died.”
And all the High Magician had said then was ‘there, do you see now?’ There was no good dwelling on what had happened or trying to remember any more than that. Yet the illusion magic had taken away all of Vahn’s efforts to blur their faces so he could forget.
“Oh,” Hawke whispered. “I’m sorry. I thought…”
“That I was from the Floating World?” Vahn shrugged. “It’s by design. Magicians are livid when they learn I’m from down below.” He tried smiling at Hawke to bury his own insecurities. “I’m past it. Seriously. It’s just hard to have it suddenly there again.” He waited until Hawke looked away to test another note on the lute before he desperately grasped for something to turn the attention away from him. “What did you see?”
The note from the lute came out sour. “Nothing!” Hawke choked out a sudden squeak and his ears went red. “Seriously. Nothing at all. It was rather dull, you know. It’s how I woke up. Nothing was there to tantalize me or anything.” He spoke it all incredibly quickly, magic straining to keep up with his words.
Vahn let the memories of his parents go and fully leaned into Hawke to catch his gaze again. “Was it about me?” he teased and Hawke grunted, trying to elbow him off. Somehow, his ears were redder. “Ooh, it was?” Vahn grinned as Hawke cast his gaze skyward. “Was it naughty?”
Hawke finally covered his face with a hand. The whole thing had flushed a red Vahn hadn’t thought possible. Magic trickled the groan that came out in lieu of a meaningful response, and Vahn couldn’t resist trying to learn more. He shook Hawke’s shoulder.
“Oh, tell me!” he pleaded. “And I’ll tell you if I’ve ever done it so next time, you’ll know if it’s really me or not!” He shook Hawke again and laughed as Hawke shrugged him off. The whole display must have been amusing because Marla was stifling a laugh ahead of them. Vahn forged on anyway. “Come on! Tell me! I’d like to know what my illusion was doing!”
Even Vahn couldn’t help the laughter bubbling out his throat and was glad Hawke started laughing too. The levity meant they could both forget the night. They’d set out to save Molly and they had. The illusionist was stopped—albeit in a way Vahn hadn’t intended. Success, all things considered. And although Vahn doubted Hawke would ever tell him what exactly he’d seen, Vahn figured it wasn’t all bad. Sure, he’d never be able to return to Larkspur again possibly and they’d all have to relearn how to live without the illusions, but he wasn’t altogether disappointed.
Because someone was there with him. Having a companion to share the adventure with was better than Vahn thought it’d be. It helped him forget what he couldn’t change and he only hoped Hawke felt the same.
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