II. The Forgotten Magician
None of this was good. Not the way Vahn’s face immediately fell. All delight and eagerness gone like they’d never existed. And then there was the body in the chair. Definitely dead. Vahn’s breathing stuttered to a halt as his eyes flitted across the skeleton, over and over again until Hawke was sure something fundamental in Vahn’s head had shattered.
“Vahn?” Hawke tried, his voice too heavy in the sudden silence.
Vahn blinked, shaking his head like he thought to clear the image in front of him, but it persisted. His eyes had grown brighter, a gleam they hadn’t had before. “Th-They were a Wayfarer Magician.”
The golden bangles on the skeleton’s wrists gave a soft trill of acknowledgement. They glistened almost all on their own, the color stark against the growing blues and violets around them.
“The High Magicians forgot about them.” Vahn’s voice went quiet. “They died and no one came to claim the body. Magic had nowhere to disperse to, trapped in here like it is. Did no one up there even care?”
Staring at the body was not helpful. Hawke reached out, intending to steer Vahn back inside, to one of the couches to sit down, but as his hand drew close, the world felt faint. All sound faded into a soft buzz in the back of his head and nothing felt right. Hawke immediately pulled his hand away. Everything returned. Magic. Vahn was not taking this well and while Hawke couldn’t exactly see what was going on, it was definitely magic related. Maybe an emotional reaction; while it didn’t have the explosiveness Molly’s had when Luven pushed her over the edge, this was another kind of loss of control and far colder.
Hawke needed to drag Vahn back to reality, not wherever his mind had immediately gone. “What happened to them?” he asked, hoping simple facts would moor Vahn back to the tower.
Vahn blinked, seemingly coming back to himself. “They died. Just like that.” His arm trembled as he waved it over the skeleton. The air shifted, magic floating along the motion. Hawke did not intend to look at the skeleton one bit. “D-Do you remember Luven? When he died, Molly was granted his magic because it decided she was an acceptable host. If… if there’s no one and no escape, magic eats away the body until magic itself crystallizes and dies.” The words began to shake at the end, Vahn’s eyes unblinking. “It should have joined the Wild Magic, but the tower is warded against letting it in. So… it ate the magician. Crystallized their skeleton until it was spent.”
His voice sounded distant again, eyes softened as they remained on the body. Hawke’s own gaze betrayed him with a furtive glance thrown at the poor magician. Barely recognizable underneath layers of crystalized magic. Pieces of the robe had been cut through, jagged edges jutting out to be free. The skull faced skyward, its eye sockets covered in a deep well of crystal spikes, and watched the sky.
“Would the Floating World have known they died?”
Vahn readjusted his bracelets. “Wayfarer Magician is a coveted title. It means we’re powerful enough to become High Magicians ourselves and while many of us do… succumb to the wilds down here, it would be wasteful to outright ignore our death like this. Besides, our bracelets can send a signal if our pulse ceases… so the High Magicians can prepare for a new one.” His words were breaking, unable to even out. Blinking too often as though to push tears back. “B-But I don’t even know this one’s name. I became the Wayfarer Magician and didn’t even know this one had existed at all!”
“Vahn,” Hawke tried again as softly as he could. “Look at me.”
“They forgot about their very own.”
“Vahn,” Hawke repeated louder and Vahn finally looked at him and not the body. All his teasing smiles were gone and a scared man stared back instead. “Don’t look at it. Look at me.” He waited until Vahn nodded. “It’s not your fault you didn’t know. How often do they even pick Wayfarer Magicians?”
The question distracted Vahn for only a moment, the answer found too quickly for Hawke to lure him away from the body to prevent any more staring at it. Vahn’s face didn’t even change into the eager to explain look when he tried to explain the unknown to Hawke. It was despondent and withdrawn.
“Not often.” Vahn gazed back at the body and Hawke internally cursed. “I thought the one before me was a High Magician by now, well into their prime.” He frowned deeply and drew his fingers carefully along the crystal spikes. “This one… I can tell they’ve been dead for years. The way the crystals have softened over time and how dull the points are, and how soft it actually is…”
Nothing about that skeleton was soft, but Hawke clamped his teeth down on pointing that out. Chances were, Vahn took a course about dead crystal bodies and knew way more about them than Hawke. Still, away from the body. No more staring. Give him some normalcy back instead of being faced with his stark mortality.
A tear slipped down Vahn’s cheek.
“No one ever came to check on them but the guards,” Vahn whispered and wiped it. “No one they knew up above. Not one of their peers they must have known for years. T-They were forgotten, just like that.” He let out a dry, sad chuckle. “Perhaps it’s a blessing? Sometimes magicians fight to be a new host for unclaimed magic. It gets vicious up there when a High Magician dies.” More tears fell and Vahn’s shoulders were trembling now. “At least they’re here at peace, watching the sky they must have loved to have posed themself so.”
One way to view it. Look past the grisly death, however it happened, and the loneliness. Hawke tried to take Vahn’s hand once more to lead him away, but the world went right back to empty and he refrained. What help was he if he couldn’t even keep his wits about him in the face of whatever was going on to drag his friend away?
He cleared his throat, hoping Vahn would look at him on his own, but he didn’t this time. His eyes stayed on the body, so sad and distant.
“What do you want to do, Vahn?” Hawke finally asked.
“I’d like to be alone, for a moment.”
The last thing Hawke wanted to do for Vahn. He hated how small and meek the magician sounded, but as far as magicians and grieving went, Hawke was out of his element.
“All right,” he said. “Take the time you need. I won’t be far.”
Vahn didn’t answer beyond a nod and sat down in front of the dead, knees drawn up to his chest. He stared at the skeleton like it’d give him some answer if he waited long enough. Without another idea, Hawke left him there and took stock of the place. If they were staying the night, he might as well make it comfortable.
Beyond the first impression, the place wasn’t really much. Lounge area near a bunch of books. Bed made to inhuman perfection (Hawke bet magic was the culprit). Lots of pillows and comforts. Nothing but robes and tunics in the wardrobe. After a little more snooping, Hawke found a divot in the wall that revealed the small privy complete with updated plumbing (and after the farms and sleeping on the road again, Hawke was very happy to see it) and a decent tub. Good.
A plan worked its way through Hawke’s mind as he reached out to test the brassy spigots. Upon touching them, a hum reached his ears. Spelled. Magicians never did anything half-assed, that was for sure. At first, the water ran a weird color, but after a moment, it cleared and ignited another spell. Heat spilled throughout the room and Hawke nodded and shut off the spigots. If anything, a bath would clear his head and he hoped the same for Vahn.
Speaking of the magician, he hadn’t moved by the time Hawke came out. Good, although Hawke wished he had. The sky was a soft violet beyond the balcony now. From up here, the only light Hawke could see were the lamps along the roadside and the top of the guard post. Starlight bloomed through the skylights above. Hawke wondered if the magician was Lunar aspected like Vahn; it made sense. He stopped thinking about it right away—that magician was dead. What mattered right now was Vahn.
“Hey,” Hawke said, coming over. “I’m filling up the bath for us.”
Vahn nodded distantly. “I’m sure it’s spelled to stay warm. You take it. I’ll be fine.”
“Come on.” Hawke knelt next to Vahn and though the world felt like it would slip away being this close, it snapped back as Vahn jumped. “You said Wild Magic can’t get in, so we’ll be safe to relax here.” Vahn thought a moment and nodded slowly. “Then relax we will. I’m filling it for the two of us.”
Hawke waited for the inevitable tease of taking a bath together, but Vahn stayed quiet. Eyes went right back to the skeleton. Hawke bit back from saying the joke himself and instead, headed back to get it ready for Vahn, first and foremost.
It was mundane. Normal. Both of those had to help Vahn ignore the mortality in the room. Hawke let the spigots run, the enchantment spilling warmth across the stream, and he pulled open the glass cabinet doors on the far side. Lots of soaps and herbs. He liberally poured in what looked like a lavender leaf on the label. Bubbles emerged immediately and it did indeed smell relaxing. Lavender mostly, as he thought, but Hawke also caught the smell of rosewater. Before long, the room was actually rather too warm and he cracked the small window near the cabinet to let out some of the steam.
As the tub filled, he left to check on the bed since if they were going to be sleeping on it, he might as well make sure it’s as comfortable as could be.
Big enough for two and smelled clean. Not quite the orange and cloves of Vahn’s usual cleaning spell, but a softer aroma. Good enough. As Hawke pulled the sheets back and readjusted the too many pillows, his gaze caught sight of the bookcases all around them throughout the room. Maybe he could cherry-pick a few books for Vahn to look at as a distraction. Except His eyes were tired and trying to make sense of what could be a good magic book might give him a headache right now. Tomorrow, maybe.
Tonight, Vahn was just a guy needing a relaxing bath to think about literally anything else but magic.
Lastly, Hawke moved the wooden screen to block the view from the bed to the skeleton. Out of sight, out of mind. He hoped, at any rate. Hopefully this would be enough to get them through until morning.
A magic trill came from the bathroom and Hawke hurried to check on the bath. Thankfully, water stopped filling on its own at an acceptable level away from the edge and the smell of lavender and rosewater pushed past him when he opened the door. Bubbles settled softly upon the multicolor sheen at the surface and Hawke drew his hand in. Still very warm. It was as ready for a sad magician as it’d ever be.
Vahn was still sitting right where Hawke had left him. Still watching the body for some kind of sign. Still the ghost of the magician he was. Hawke knelt down next to him.
“The High Magicians must have known,” Vahn said without prompting. “It’s why they picked another Wayfarer Magician. Why they decided on me…”
Hawke glanced at the body and suppressed a shiver. “Did you find out how they died?”
A soft sigh escaped Vahn and he drew himself tighter. “No. They… they gave up, maybe. Without proper tools, I have no way of knowing for sure. Time Magic might not go back far enough. I just…”
Hawke touched Vahn’s shoulder, glad the world remained where it should have been when he did. Vahn tilted his head toward Hawke, frowning. “Then what’s past it past,” Hawke said. “We can’t help them. What we can do now is help you.”
Vahn blinked. “Me?”
“Come on, I drew you a bath.” Hawke smiled at the confused expression. “Don’t think about anything but the bubbles and rosewater. You’ll feel better about all this.”
A smile struggled across Vahn’s lips. It became lopsided and weary instead of its usual coyness, but it was a start. “Why? I’m fine. Really.”
“I don’t want you to be sad and I don’t think this is helping,” Hawke said, not buying that declaration even for a second. “You helped me even when I was ready to run and leave everyone behind, and now I want to help you. Granted, it’s nothing compared to laying low a king made of magic, but cut me some slack here.”
That got a good-natured chuckle out of Vahn and even better, he stood. “I suppose I should then, hm?”
Hawke watched Vahn go and only when he disappeared behind the bathroom door did Hawke look at the dead magician on his own. The crystals shimmered bright with a sheen that oscillated below the surface. Honestly, it would have been pretty if it wasn’t attached to a dead body.
“I’m sorry,” Hawke said, feeling the need to say something. “It sucks this happened, it really does, but I can’t help you. Neither can he.” The breeze coming inside cooled the back of Hawke’s neck like an answer. What it said, however, he’d never know. “So… yeah. Rest in peace. Sleep well with the Goddess and may the next life greet you warmly.”
Truncated funeral words, but they’d do if they actually mattered.
With Vahn in the bath, Hawke had to confront that he was now the one alone and he hated it. Thinking about all the things the dead inspired was not what he wanted, but with no distraction—even the worrying about Vahn type—his mind wandered right into it. Maybe he should have just offered to take the bath with Vahn on his own… No. He shook that idea right out of his head. Dimension wise, that tub would have been too small—one of them would have ended up on the other’s lap and nope. Not thinking about that one bit.
Hawke paced the room, trying not to think about logistics or the dead and found his way back to the kitchen below. Tomorrow would need a damned good breakfast, so he might as well look at what was there to get an idea what he could whip together.
By the time he’d gone through the pantry (it was way too stocked for someone who might have known their death was coming, but Hawke ignored that tidbit of information) and had put aside what he wanted to take with them and what to use for breakfast, he heard magic from above. He returned to the top floor as Vahn was coming out, skin flushed pink from the bath. A twinkling towel was wrapped around his shoulders to catch the drips from his hair and he’d redressed in his usual sleepwear. Hawke was proud he did not immediately glance at Vahn’s legs this time, although he did hate Vahn didn’t tease him about it. He simply walked by to leave his bag beside Hawke’s near the bed.
“I reenchanted it for you,” Vahn said with none of his usual energy still. “If you wanted a bath too.”
That was the plan. As Hawke went to his bag to pull out something clean to sleep in, Vahn was drawn to the books all around them. He gently tipped them, reading the spines, before pushing many of them back into the bookcases to move on.
“Will you be fine out here on your own?” Hawke asked.
“Yes.” Vahn stood on his toes, reaching high for a book above him. “I just want to find out what they were researching. Might be good to know.” He pulled the tome free and rested it in his arm before he moved to the next section.
Focusing would do him good, Hawke was sure, and left it at that as he went to take his own bath. Vahn’s familiar magic hummed across the surface, making it twinkle, and Hawke wasted no time undressing and getting in.
The warm water was so good on all the sore muscles Hawke had been ignoring. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this until he was in the water, resting the back of his head against the side of the tub. If he didn’t worry about slipping, he might have taken a quick nap. Not a good idea, so he soaked, let his worries melt into the water, and thought about breakfast mostly.
Once he was relaxed, he scrubbed himself clean until he didn’t smell like hay or the road one bit and then got out before the relaxation emptied his mind so much, he went right back to worrying.
Unfortunately, relaxation did not last as when he emerged, dried and dressed in soft pants to sleep in, Vahn had set himself up around the dead magician with stacks of books all around him. His own magic book floated to one side, twinkling with new little notes as it did so, and Vahn even had his notebook splayed across his lap. A little light had been conjured and floated freely above Vahn like an ember. Everything looked like Vahn was in for the long haul.
Hawke breathed out his frustration and came over. “You should sleep.”
Vahn turned the page of the tome on the stack beside him. Diagrams and loops—way too many loops—filled the page. “I’ll be fine.” Vahn must have heard Hawke’s hesitation, for he looked up with a weak smile. “You can sleep. I’m just not that tired yet.”
Yes, he was with how heavy his eyes looked and the softness in his voice. Except pushing the issue would just piss them both off and Hawke left it be. Vahn was his own person—he knew his limits. At least, Hawke hoped so. He nodded, turning away, and figured the least he could do was find Vahn a blanket. A familiar one—not one from the dead magician’s bed.
Vahn always had a certain heavy blanket he pulled out whenever they camped. Vibrant colors dulled over time with golden leaves embroidered across it. Hawke bent over Vahn’s bag and opened it. Magic spilled out, making him shudder, and all he saw within was darkness absolute.
He wasn’t sure what else he’d been expecting. He scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Come on, bag,” Hawke whispered, “just give me that blanket he likes. I know you’ve got to know which one.” He let magic spark in his voice, tumble across his words, and delved his hand right in. The interior was ice cold, like frost gathered around his skin, but then he felt something soft push against his hand, insistent. He pulled. The blanket came free, smelling like the incense Vahn burned whenever they made camp. Familiar.
Vahn was bemused when Hawke returned to wrap it around him. “Wait,” Vahn said, the twinkle of curiosity blooming in his eyes, “how did you—”
Hawke winked. “I’ll let you feel my throat next time I do it,” he teased and Vahn hid a smile by looking away. Hawke hoped he could replicate the miracle. “Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t. Good night, Hawke.”
Not that Hawke believed Vahn, but he left the magician be and went to the bed alone. It was comfortable, at least, and Hawke sunk into the pillows, hoping to sleep well despite listening for any sign of the magician getting up.
Listened so hard, he dozed off. One blink, there was the ceiling, too dark to really see the wooden beams above, and then the next, moonlight slid into the room from the skylights above and Vahn was at the bedside, blanket wrapped around him. The moonglow haloed him and in the bleary state of asleep and being awake, the sight stunned Hawke still. It wasn’t quite shock, but maybe something akin to reverence with how striking Vahn looked drenched in the moonlight and magic, even when sad. The sparkle ever-present in his eyes, the way his fingertips always echoed magic, and just Vahn in his entirety.
“W-What’s wrong?” Hawke groggily asked.
“You’re right,” Vahn whispered, his voice cracking, “none of this helped.” He pressed a palm to one eye and then the next. His nails were chewed down and broken, their usual elegance lost to nervousness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“No, no. It’s fine. Wasn’t asleep.” Hawke scooted over. “I was taking up the entire bed anyway.” He patted the vacated side as an invitation and was glad Vahn accepted it. He slid his bare legs beneath the sheets and spread his blanket across the two of them.
Somehow, the bed felt complete with Vahn’s weight there, like Hawke had been missing something before. Comforting and familiar. Hawke rolled to his side, away from Vahn, and closed his eyes. The attempt to sleep again didn’t last long; eventually, Vahn moved, the weight shifting like he’d sat up.
“Hawke?” Vahn whispered, desperate.
Hawke rolled back over to look at Vahn and once more found himself stunned still. Vahn was sitting up now, but he looked so incredibly sad and delicate like a breeze might break him entirely if it wanted to. The moonglow still haloed him, making his hair shimmer, his eyes vibrant, and it vividly outlined the shape of his shoulders through his shirt. Beautiful despite everything.
If Hawke was bolder, didn’t have a voice in the back of his head telling him no magicians—never again—he might have given in to the desire to pull Vahn down into the pillows just to kiss him. Make him smile with lips alone because at least Hawke knew how to do that. But, he didn’t. Because he was not that kind of man, especially not when magicians were concerned, and instead, he stared like a fish and waited for Vahn to continue.
“This is a weird request,” Vahn said and quickly looked away from Hawke. “But could I listen to your heart as I sleep?”
Hawke blinked. “What?”
Vahn sighed, frustrated. Some vulnerability laid bare Hawke wasn’t sure he was equipped to handle. “My thoughts are literally everywhere and I can’t calm them down.” Magic lit up between his fingertips; soft little sparks. “Everything here is not a good distraction. Most of the books I’d found were filled with their thoughts. Not magic. They’d given up years before I was even born.”
His voice grew almost too quiet to hear at the end, like he found an answer to a question Hawke didn’t even know.
“It’s all right if it’s too forward. I can figure it out,” Vahn rushed to add and twisted his hands together. “It’s all right to say no. I’d understand. I just… this is a lot…”
“No, it’s fine.” Hawke repositioned himself on his back and Vahn lifted his head. “C’mere, get comfortable. At least I smell nice.”
“You always do,” Vahn whispered, the relieved look on his tired face just as kissable as all the ones previously. “Like the sunshine.”
Before Hawke could reply, Vahn settled in. A warm body pressed close reminded Hawke how much he missed the same. Like a part of himself that had been missing was returned now. Hawke even moved a comforting arm around Vahn without conscious thought until it was there. Vahn didn’t mind, not with how he released a soft, contented sigh. His breath ghosted across Hawke’s skin, momentarily flushing goosebumps across it.
“You hear it?” Hawke asked.
“Mhm.”
Hawke rubbed his thumb in circles around Vahn’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d laid like this with someone and felt this relaxed. Probably some time with Trice. Before everything went wrong.
“Hey, Vahn?” he asked, a question sparking to mind.
“Hm?”
“What do you actually want?” Hawke wondered if it was something he should be asking at all, but if he didn’t ask it now, he never would. “I know, learning magic and all that, but after the wayfarer part’s over.”
“To be a High Magician, of course.”
The answer didn’t come with any heart attached to it. Hawke frowned and tilted his head. “Do you? Or is it because it’s convenient since it’s the path they all expect of you?”
The path they’d expected of the magician but paces away, staring skyward as they’d died alone in their tower. The very same one forgotten and left here without a friend or memorial to note their passing. Vahn was quiet for a time and Hawke began wishing he hadn’t asked. Just as he thought to take it back, Vahn spoke.
“There’s literally nothing else for someone like me.”
He sounded so sad saying so. Hawke glanced down, drawing his gaze across Vahn curled up at his side, and the shimmer of the golden bangles glinted in the light. It was pressed against his side, cold to the touch the more he acknowledged it. Maybe Vahn was right. Maybe one day he’d go back and Hawke would never see him again because that was what happened to Wayfarer Magicians. Vahn would be locked away, looking at everything from afar. Heart hardened into stone like the rest of them.
Hawke hated thinking of the same and wondered when the attachment started.
“Still hear my heart?”
Vahn chuckled, the sound pleasant as it vibrated against Hawke’s chest, and adjusted himself. His cheek was warm against Hawke’s skin. “Yes, I do. It’s very soothing.” Another soft, contented sigh drifted from his lips. “Thank you and good night, Hawke.”
“Good night, Vahn.”
And Hawke knew sleep would come quickly, because here, as he was, hiding from Wild Magic and all the world, he was relaxed and at peace with this Wayfarer Magician resting against him so.
🙡🙢
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