I. The Floating Island of Epsilon
“Is it that one?” Hawke nodded at the island going by overhead.
Vahn shushed him with an elbow to the ribs. “No. I told you! Epsilon passes on the third hour.” He quickly eyed the crystalline sundial affixed to the building. He nodded. “We’ve a little more time.”
But it was so fun to tease Vahn and play dumb. All the islands looked alike from down here, anyway. Shadows passing lazily above in some order Hawke never bothered to memorize. The ones orbiting near his hometown had a rhyme teachers tried to instill in children, but Hawke never bothered to memorize it. Why should he if he’d never be allowed up there? He went back to tuning his lute, smiling to himself.
They sat at the mouth of one of the Sky Transporters used to get to the floating islands. They were sealed buildings most people down below passed by without notice. Not like you could get in without a fancy magicked pass Vahn had to dig deep in his bag to find. All this security in the hopes of keeping the dirt born riffraff out.
This transporter was located in an open field, not in a Spire City, and thus, more discreet since neither of them wanted to go near a Spire City if they could help it. Besides, Vahn had to be discreet about this visit. Wayfarer Magicians weren’t supposed to go back this soon.
Although it meant they had to wait for the right island to come near instead of picking a name from a list and being whisked there. Spire Cities acted as beacons for the islands while they were in the sky, so they were always equidistant from them in a rotation. That was all Hawke got out of Vahn’s rather verbose explanation that went on and on about the specific nuances. Sorcery. That was it and all Hawke needed to know.
The transporter was overgrown and untended, with a few of the bricks loose. Ivy climbed high and inside the cracks, blooming summer flowers unimpeded. Gems were affixed to the outside of the building, each one a brilliant amber soaking in the sun’s rays. Together, it made the place look mystical. Probably didn’t see much use, though, but Vahn didn’t seem to mind as he happily sat on the stone steps waiting for the right island to come near. He’d already checked the innerworkings, wiped off the dust from the mechanisms inside, and determined it was in working order.
Inside was a single enclosed room and would have been dark if not for the glass skylight in the ceiling. Below the skylight was a large glyph drawn on the tiles. The design was too complicated to stare at for long (it made Hawke’s eyes itch) and Vahn explained the feeling was intended. Didn’t need anyone replicating the design somewhere else and getting into the islands another way.
They were waiting for the Floating Island of Epsilon which housed a research library Vahn wanted to visit for any information about King Elwick of the Wild, the self-proclaimed king of Wild Magic who was still after Hawke and now, by extension, Vahn. Going at all sounded like trouble. People born down here, feet flat on the ground, weren’t welcome. They were unenlightened and even those with a little magic were hardly tolerated. Although, considering this building existed at all, Hawke wondered if people like him were once allowed up there regularly. No reason for this place to exist in the middle of nowhere otherwise. Any magician that did come down tended to stick near Spire Cities.
Unless they were Vahn, of course. Wayfarer Magician that he was.
Avoiding a Spire City’s transporters was agreed upon for two reasons: Hawke wouldn’t even be allowed near the building and Vahn technically wasn’t allowed back up to the floating islands until the High Magicians deemed him worthy of return. Hawke had no idea when that’d be and neither did Vahn, so here they were. Waiting for the island to come by to get up there on the sly.
“You sure this is a good idea?” Hawke asked idly.
Vahn made a dramatic sigh, slumping his shoulders. “For the third time, yes. You can’t hear Elwick anymore, so something’s changed. If he’s as bad as I think, then chances are there has been research done about him. The Epsilon Research Library is one of the best we have.” Vahn straightened his back and folded his hands over his knees, casting his gaze skyward. “Besides, Citrine lives up there in the residential district. We can visit her.” He had a wistful smile on his lips. “She’ll be happy for the company. You two will absolutely love each other.”
Hawke tilted his head, amused. “You think?”
“She doesn’t have much magic and! She bakes!” Vahn closed his eyes and wiggled in place. “I cannot wait to taste her cinnamon rolls again. It’s been too long!”
“Is she expecting us?”
Vahn made a face. “No, but the only way to tell her was to send her a card from a Spire City. Better we avoid them for this. Sometimes missives get read before reaching their recipient.”
Just in case. Hawke didn’t really mind; he hated Spire Cities personally. Between Spire Knights, regular folk imbued with magic from above who thought they were hot shit, to magicians coming and going also thinking themselves hot shit, he always found the cities stifling. Besides, one of them was bound to notice his singing tended to enchant people and he’d rather avoid that kind of attention.
“We’ll be up and out before anyone’s the wiser,” Vahn added.
Tuning the lute wasn’t happening. Hawke was too distracted. Vahn had craned his neck as he watched the shadow of the smaller island move away from them. There were a handful of islands clustered in this area and Vahn explained it was because this cluster particular was raised from here long ago. Not that one could tell looking at the plains around them. Grass as far as the eye could see.
“What happens if you’re caught up there?” Hawke asked the obvious.
Vahn tensed and looked away to fiddle with the gold bangles on his wrists. They twinkled under the sun, giving out a soft trill as Vahn touched them. “I’m not sure. I’d rather not think about it.”
Which meant nothing good.
The summer breeze fluttered through them, a welcome respite. It was cooler than it had been in days, but the noon sun still had a way of making sweat prickle at the back of Hawke’s neck. He needed to keep Vahn talking for another distraction before he wandered off to find a cold river to jump into.
“Come on, you’re usually chattier,” Hawke teased and Vahn gave him a chuckle. He’d been quieter than Hawke liked, ever since the tower they’d found with the previous Wayfarer Magician’s crystallized skeleton. It was clearly still eating Vahn up inside. “Tell me a little bit about Citrine. How long have you known each other?”
Vahn’s eyes lit up and he smiled. “Since our first year at university,” he said. “We were in the same class, both kind of outcasts. Me a dirt mage and her not very strong. So, we stuck together.” He touched one of the crescent moon earrings and it caught the sun, twinkling. “She gave me these when I graduated. She’s opened a small bakery with funds from her parents when university didn’t go as planned. I miss her a lot, actually. Wish she could have come down here. It’d be easier to visit.”
There was that little of the Vahn Hawke missed. He sounded incredibly fond of this Citrine and Hawke was looking forward to meeting her. Maybe she wouldn’t be bad for a magician from the Floating World.
“I’m sure she’ll love all the misadventures you’ve had down here.”
“Oh, she will.” Vahn snickered. “Maybe we’ll be up all night catching up.” He glanced skyward and hopped to his feet. “It’s time! I see it coming!”
“How can you even tell?” Hawke squinted up at the sky. The islands were big rocks with clouds clinging to them. Nothing different about them. “They all look the same!”
“Magic!” Vahn pulled Hawke to his feet. “Come on before we miss it!”
Vahn eagerly took Hawke into the building, no time to waste. Before long, the island’s shadow crept across the skylight, darkening the whole inside, and just as it eclipsed the whole thing, Vahn had his and Hawke’s hands against the flat pedestal in the center of the glyph. Lines of magic lit up under their touch and while Hawke was sure it was more because of Vahn than anything else, a tickle went up his throat.
The whole inside filled with magic lines crisscrossing along the walls and floor, becoming brighter and brighter, and a cascade of notes strummed against the air. Each one vibrated off the other, creating a song, and Hawke’s fingers itched to follow it.
“It’s best to close your eyes,” Vahn said, his voice easily mixing with the magic.
“Why?”
In all honestly, he should have listened and asked why later; the room became so bright, like the arrival of the sun. It seared the inside of the room so intensely, it blew away all other senses except the lingering warmth baking itself into Hawke’s skin. Through it. Between it. Like the brightness itself pushed into the spaces between his skin and muscles and bones, pulling Hawke’s entire being apart. He held fast to the touch of Vahn’s hands—the single most real sensation past the brightness.
Just as quickly as everything had gone, everything returned. It was such a rush of sensation, being able to feel a breeze on his skin, the beat of his own heart inside his chest, and his legs collapsed. He sank to a floor that was now tiled and pristine. His breaths came out in gasping spurts, lungs starved for air like he’d screamed. Reality felt too real now. He was too observant over his own body. The way the fabric of his shirt settled against his chest. The weight of his lute on his back. Vahn’s touch tight against his.
The little shit was still standing, too. Like nothing had happened! Hawke managed an annoyed grunt, a glare, but Vahn merely chuckled and helped Hawke back to his feet.
“It’s a bit to get used to,” the magician admitted sheepishly. He checked Hawke over, first his face with gentle touches, then turned him around and patted his back down. He squeezed Hawke’s arms, probably decided against patting down his ass given the hesitation, and then touched his legs briefly. Hawke was only glad to be facing Vahn again in the end and that the magician was smiling. “See now? You’re all there.”
Until that. Hawke cringed. “Are you serious?”
“Travel between islands is like that too,” Vahn continued, ignoring Hawke’s annoyance. “Like your insides become outsides briefly, then the magic sorts you back out. It’s rather fascinating to study! It involves… perhaps you might not think so. I’m going to stop right there.”
Hawke huffed as Vahn bit back an amused smile.
“You could have warned me,” he grumbled and checked on his lute. Yep. Still there with all its strings attached. Good.
“And scare you?” Vahn tilted his head, amused. “Perish the thought! Come on. Let’s go find Citrine and get out of the way in case anyone else is coming up today!”
His eagerness was infectious, at least, and Hawke let Vahn lead him forward. The room resembled the one from before, except way more polished. Clearly taken care of. The floor shimmered and it took Hawke glancing twice to realize why: it was glass. Showing the land far down below beyond a haze of clouds. His legs threatened to give out a second time and he immediately averted his gaze to the ceiling instead. No skylight there, but there was a large quartz that reflected the light around the room, brightening it up.
Out of the room was a hallway instead of a field and people milled about, no one the wiser of who they were. Vahn hurried Hawke past them, acting like he belonged, and Hawke followed his lead. The architecture here reminded Hawke of Spire Cities. Flowering designs of metal and wood. Long arched windows enchanted to bring in as much sunlight as they could. The few people in the hall wore brightly colored clothes, accented in gold or silver, and magic sung off the stitches. This was going to take some getting used to if even the clothes were magicked.
Vahn took Hawke through what he guessed was a small reception room where a poor worker was dealing with a rather annoyed pair of travelers talking about how bumpy the teleport had been. Vahn didn’t linger to listen and led Hawke out of the double doors left open, letting sunshine spill brilliantly inside.
As they stepped outside, Hawke couldn’t keep up the pretense that he belonged. His jaw simply dropped and he had to come to a stop.
He’d expected something grand, but the sheer size of it took him by complete surprise. Tall buildings with even taller spires decorated in sunbursts reaching high into the sky, floral patterns weaving between tall windows to create a design across buildings that shimmered against the sun, geometric patterns of bronze and green decorating smooth gray walls, and entryways glittering with vibrant tilework. The streets were paved, the lamps along them crystalline, and plants absolutely flourished. What Hawke noticed most of all, however, was the ever-present hum. It permeated underneath everything. A chorus of magic once used to build it all, hymns of the magic still there. Stitching pieces of everything together in a constant sound. He could have gotten lost in it. It reminded him of the Spire Cities even more, but more vibrant. More alive.
People of all kinds dressed in colorful robes and tunics made their way up and down the streets, magic singing off their very beings and joining the island’s song. Some were clearly magicians; golden bangles like Vahn’s twinkled along their arms. But then there were those without. Almost normal, like him, just blessed to be born up here instead of down there.
Hawke snapped out of it when he noticed people glancing his way, trying politely to get around him and into the transporter building. In a panic, Hawke shot his gaze across the street, and found Vahn stiffly moving through the crowd. He jogged to keep up, ready to tease Vahn about leaving him behind, but swallowed his words as soon as he sighted the magician’s face. Vahn was nervous. Shoulders tense. Eyes on the road and nothing else.
“It’s supposed to be dead,” Vahn hissed, noticing Hawke had caught up. He took Hawke’s hand and whispered an enchantment. Wind tickled Hawke’s legs and their pace quickened. He pivoted them between two tall buildings and some of the shimmer and glitz died outright.
Hawke snorted. Of course it was going to be like Larkspur. The whole city draped in an illusion to make it look better than it was. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected any different.
“There’s a shortcut through here,” Vahn insisted as he picked his head up. A few others milled about in the alley, but no one looked outright threatening. Vahn paid them no mind and they paid Hawke and Vahn no mind the same. “I really wanted to show you the fountain…”
“Why’s it so crowded?” Hawke asked, glancing up and down the walls on either side. Pipes were fastened to the sides and snaked around some glowing magic glyph. The hum was the loudest when they passed one, but hell if Hawke knew what it meant. All he recognized were the lunar and solar symbols, but that was because Vahn liked drawing them.
“Someone important must be visiting,” Vahn said, nerves leaking through his voice. “This island is part of the Epsilon Quarter which includes the best university the Floating World has to offer—I went there. This one only has its affiliated research libraries, but no one usually comes to those in droves…” He glanced back, chewing on his lip. “With a lot of visitors, I suppose we can blend in better. A blessing of a sort.”
Hawke didn’t buy that, not with how nervous Vahn sounded. He let it go, though, and kept close to Vahn as he maneuvered them through alleys.
Every time Hawke glanced back toward the main road, he caught sight of other travelers making their way. He was glad he’d let Vahn convince himself to scrub himself until his skin hurt with something Vahn had tucked away in his bag. He was probably cleaner than he’d ever thought possible and it made him fit in just a little better. Vahn had even tried harder to clean their clothes, getting the smell of road out of them. Everything was almost like new.
Vahn turned them out of the twisting alleys and down a tight cobblestone street curving upward around a towering, tiered landscape of willow trees and pink flowers. Establishments weren’t as sparkly and tall here, but kept to the same design work. They were so close together, too, the alleys hardly existed up here. Windows sung with magic and signs floated in place, declaring its particular storefront. A modest clothing shop there with mannequins floating in the windows; a bustling tavern well into their early dinner crowd farther down; even a tea shop with outside seating, a few patrons sitting back and relaxing with teacups that floated to them.
At the end of the street, Vahn came to a stop. A small bakery and café named Coffee Break’n Bake. The window displayed confections of all kinds on tiered shelves and a magicked board detailing the drinks of the day. No outdoor seating, however, but in their place were large, planter boxes of flowers.
“Here we are,” Vahn said softly and strode inside.
The bell against the door jingled, ghosting a twinkle of magic across the wooden ceiling beam above the door. It continued across the wood until it disappeared somewhere behind the door past the main counter. The inside was honestly cozy. Glass lamps floated in place, the light not too bright, but not too dark. The wooden floor was done in a zigzag shape and glistened like it was polished daily. All the chairs were upside down on their tables, however, like it was already closing for the day.
Vahn paid that no mind and went right up the counter, leaning on it in the way he always leaned on things and Hawke refrained from eyeing up his ass this time (he was getting better about that).
A joyful voice came from what must have been the kitchen in the back. “I’ll be out in just a sec!”
Vahn was content to wait, leaning his chin on his palm and smiling all the while, and Hawke glanced around again. There was a piano softly playing on its own in the corner. Magic played with the notes too and the two together didn’t sound too bad. He was almost tempted to pull out his lute to play along, just to work out some of his own nerves, when the door to the kitchen swung open and someone came through.
“Welcome, welcome!” She was dusting flour off her rabbit and cake printed apron without looking up. Vahn’s smile only grew. “I’m closing early today—I’ve got a big order coming up—but I can package up…”
She stopped, bright eyes behind flour-smudged glasses flicking upward, and stared Vahn. He waved, a little shy, and it took her another moment before she squealed with delight and practically flew around the counter and right into Vahn. She wrapped him up so tight, Hawke had to hide a snicker as Vahn began struggling.
Must have been Citrine, then. She was devilishly cute with a round face and adorable dimples, a round body with curves aplenty befitting a baker, and was dressed in a simple dress and leggings beneath her apron. Somehow, she didn’t make Hawke nervous at all despite clearly being a magician. Her hair was a vibrant strawberry shade and had been tucked back into a high ponytail, while her eyes had an amber sparkle to them Hawke only noticed in the dim light.
“Vahn!” She finally pulled back, vibrating in place. She cupped his face, squishing it, and pursed her lips. “You haven’t been eating! I told you to take care of yourself!”
Vahn laughed and tried wiggling out of her grasp. She trapped him again with another hug, this one softer, and Vahn reciprocated it. The whole display was cute and reminded Hawke of the way his sisters would hug him. Thinking of them at all shot a guilt into his heart and he looked away.
Moving must have tipped Citrine off that he was lingering behind Vahn, and she let go to study him. She narrowed her eyes and adjusted her glasses.
“This is Hawke,” Vahn introduced and turned to beckon Hawke closer. Citrine looked him up and down, eyebrows high. “He’s a bard I met from down below.”
Her eyes twinkled. “A bard?” She was quickly at his side, trying to get a look at his lute. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing! I can see there’s magic on your lute, but not that much of it. You don’t use magic at all, do you?”
“Not a spell,” Hawke said and bit back the obvious lie in his throat as Vahn turned to consider him. “Okay well, not intentionally.”
Citrine nodded slowly, eyeing his throat the same way Vahn did. “I see. That’s such a breath of fresh air though!” She smiled widely, regarding him with something near fascination. Magicians weren’t supposed to be this cute. How did Hawke end up finding two of them that were cute? “All the bards and minstrels up here are drowning in magic, I bet your songs sound more real.”
“Ah, I mean,” Hawke stammered on his words, suddenly bashful. Citrine gave him a coy smile and he hated the flutter that small motion lit in his heart. “Ask Vahn. I think he likes listening.”
Vahn laughed softly. “I do, a lot, actually.” He cleared his throat before Hawke could respond and touched a hand to Citrine’s shoulder. “This is my friend, Citrine.”
“How do you do?” Hawke extended his hand toward Citrine, trying to gain control over the introductions again so he wasn’t a stammering mess in front of a pretty face. Then Citrine went ahead and wrapped him in a hug.
“You’re so sweet!” Citrine squeezed him once and withdrew. “Thank you for taking care of Vahn for me. I wish I could have gone adventuring with him, but I’d be no use down there.”
Vahn’s expression turned shy as he regarded her. “I would have loved it if you could have, though,” he said. “Maybe I can sneak you down there sometime. I think you’d like the vastness, like nothing has an end.”
Hawke wasn’t sure he’d survive traveling with both of them. Not with how Citrine was already making him feel.
“Maybe one day,” Citrine said wistfully. “I’m sure you are both trouble, though.”
“Hawke and I keep each other out of trouble,” Vahn added quickly.
Hawke scoffed. “No, that’s an outright lie. He drags me into trouble, I’ll have you know.”
“Hey!” Vahn’s cheeks went red, but Citrine was giggling before he could insist otherwise.
“That sounds like Vahn,” she teased and considered them both. “How about you regale me with your tales over dinner?” She turned and waved a hand at the backwall. A glyph came to life at the motion and the cabinet near the kitchen door moved out of the way, revealing a flight of stairs upward.
Her magic was quiet and soft, nothing like Vahn’s more pronounced flair. It was then Hawke noticed the lack of a bracelet on her wrist like the other magicians. Instead, she had a black band inked into her skin. Vahn noticed Hawke staring at it and gave him a slight shake of the head.
So, he ignored it.
“Ooh,” Hawke said and sniffed the air. Something good had wafted down and it wasn’t whatever she had just finished baking in the other room. This smelled savory. “I’m already salivating. What did you make?”
Vahn elbowed him, offended. “Hey! Her stuff is made with magic too, you know. You never sound that excited when I make something.”
Hawke waved him off and Citrine faced them, a curious gleam to her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but I bet it ain’t purple.”
“Purple?!” Citrine covered a laugh as Vahn shot her a betrayed look. “Vahn, what have you done to this poor man?” She wrapped her arm around Hawke’s and pulled him closer, toward whatever it was she was fixing for dinner. “Come on, let’s get you something good to eat my dear new friend. I promise it’s not purple.”
Vahn’s face went red again and he stammered. “It was edible! He’s just teasing me!”
“Well, we know how much you like that!”
“Citrine!” Vahn whined.
Citrine was outright cackling as she led Hawke up the stairs, leaving an incredibly flustered Vahn to hurry after them. Hawke could get used to that.
Past their back and forth bickering and then laughter, however, a silent note rang out from the magic in the air. Hawke almost stopped, just to listen, but it dissipated as soon as he’d heard it. The other notes magic made had ceased hearing it, like it had cleaved right through them, but they’d returned just as fast.
Weird. He thought to bring it up to Vahn as Citrine peeled away to pull out dinner, but seeing how relaxed the magician was sniping back and forth with her made Hawke reconsider. Maybe it didn’t matter. Probably just magic he was overthinking.
🙡🙢