IV. Old Mentors
The automatons shoved Vahn into the old research office, one full building away from the library and through a bunch of twisty hallways the public never got to see. Vahn had seen them now and wasn’t incredibly impressed. As soon as the automatons retreated out of the room, a ward snapped into place across the door, barring Vahn’s exit. He listened to the automatons go, their magic returned to something soft and light as it glided across their innerworkings to lead them home.
He sighed and clinked his bangles together; the ropes the automatons had used had sparked the nullification charm. Vahn calmed them anew, but he found it didn’t bother him as much as it once had. It was harder to activate too, after what Elwick had done to them. Small miracles, he supposed.
This was still not going well, however. He admonished himself, angry he’d forgotten something as simple as Hawke would naturally gravitate toward books at his level, not at Vahn’s. It would have been so simple to just reach up and dispelled the other shelves, but no. Vahn was laser focused on what he could immediately reach. Coming up to the floating island had Vahn out of sorts and he was starting to wish he’d never suggested it. The few books he’d looked through hadn’t been helpful. Nothing was, it seemed, when it came to Elwick.
But Vahn desperately didn’t want to fail Hawke.
He studied the ward on the door. He knew the weavings, the delicate motions the hands had used to construct it. He could have broken it, but there was a counterspell deeper than the ward. Should he try, it would sap his magic. While he was sure he could undo the ward before it’d tap him of all his magic, he wasn’t keen to try. Once being completely drained was enough for him.
All he had to do when someone arrived was explain he had to research something for down below and that he understood his early return was unorthodox and then promise never again until the High Magicians deemed him ready. Surely, he hadn’t been the first Wayfarer Magician to do so. Although now, he understood why they frowned upon an early return. Magic was so easy up here. Barely a whisper and it was yours to command. Wild Magic liked to tease and resist until the last possible moment. That required magicians to concentrate harder, pushing more of their magic into commanding it. Thus, performing magic in such a way became normalized and made using magic up here unbalanced. Too much power pushed into the spells could upset the balance up here.
Thankfully, Vahn easily flipped between the two modes. He hadn’t been gone that long, after all. Perhaps after years of study, it’d be a different story.
Regardless of all that, Hawke was safe and that was what Vahn had worried about more than anything else. If they’d both been caught and some errant researcher heard Elwick’s magic upon Hawke’s voice? Hawke would have been lost to Vahn, surely.
Vahn turned and considered the room idly. Bare bones office. Not for anyone in particular, clearly. Probably used by visiting researchers. There was a desk, some writing utensils, and parchment primed for notes. A tall bookshelf sat at the other end of the small room, generic spell books at the ready should the searcher need it, and magical trinkets to give the room a little personality. Nothing useful, although Vahn supposed that in a pinch, he could use the mini-astrolabe as a bludgeoning weapon. Everyone expected you to fight with magic up here, a quick swipe with something not magic could give him an edge. It was such a cute piece of decoration, though. Vahn left it be and turned his attention elsewhere.
The window across from the door looked out toward the city spires. The sky had turned to a dawn shade of pink and orange, the shadows drawing themselves long and deep across the island. Vahn hadn’t realized how long they’d taken, but he appreciated seeing hints of the sun if only for the peace it granted him. There was a stillness to this time of day, a time between sleep and wakefulness. While up here it meant the bustle of the city and the comings and goings of magician was at a standstill, down below, it was soft watching the world slowly wake up around him.
The ward twinkled and Vahn turned in time to see the door opening. He tensed, priming a spell in his head, but the words faltered immediately seeing who came inside. High Researcher and Tenured Professor Senwin Damascin.
The man did a double-take, his own shock a mirror for Vahn’s own. They stared at each other for a hesitant moment, until Vahn smiled, all his worries growing distant.
“Ah, it’s you,” Senwin teased, his voice like music to Vahn. A song he’d missed dearly. Senwin came inside and the door slid shut behind him, affording them privacy.
“Yes,” Vahn said, a happy thrill moving through him as he felt Senwin’s magic in the room. “It’s me.”
His professor hadn’t changed much in the months Vahn had been gone. Salt and pepper hair bordering on silver in a tousled short wave. Pale skin hiding unseen glyphs to augment his magic in the name of research. He was tall and trim and went on daily runs to keep himself that way. He was unshaven this early, but Vahn always preferred him a little unkempt. Fit him better than a clean professor image ever would. Most students never quite saw this side of him, however. It was usually all Vahn’s. Senwin wore what most researchers here wore: a slim vest, long sleeves, snug trousers, and a bold mauve cloak with slits up the sides to provide freedom for the arms. Vahn felt rather underdressed in comparison, especially as Senwin drew his gaze across him, memorizing the small ways Vahn must have changed in his months away.
Senwin finished his appraisal with a nod, finally looking at Vahn with his eyes of molten gold. The frosted glasses balancing on his nose tended to dull them quite a bit, but were useful in his field of study. The lenses were augmented with stardust to help him see magic more deeply than anyone else could.
The man clicked his tongue in mock disapproval and Vahn bit back another smile.
“Wards caught you again?” He approached slowly and Vahn happily backed up until the desk was right behind him. “Haven’t you learned? Or has your sight grown soft down there with nothing comparable?”
“I suppose I am a little out of practice,” Vahn admitted. “I’d hardly even noticed they were yours.”
Perhaps a lie, but sometimes it paid to stroke Senwin’s ego.
Senwin stopped his advance and put his arms on the desk, blocking Vahn in. To anyone looking in, it would have looked like Senwin had Vahn trapped. Vahn didn’t mind; it was like their old games again, sending a flutter through his stomach.
“My dear professor,” he said softly. “Do you think this requires punishment?”
“It ought to,” Senwin mused. “It was our game, wasn’t it?”
His kisses were always to the point and Vahn liked them for that. The heat of his mouth encompassing Vahn’s so completely, nothing else mattered. Vahn returned the motions in kind and wrapped his arms around Senwin’s shoulders to draw him closer. Between heavy kisses, Senwin lifted Vahn up to the edge of the desk, and positioned himself between Vahn’s legs to keep them apart. Magic danced across their shared kisses, playing with one another as was often between magicians. Vahn had missed the feeling. Of Senwin’s magic dancing across his tongue, of it teasing its way across his skin. He’d worried he’d never feel Senwin’s lips again like this. Time had a way of softening feelings for one another, after all. Vahn drank him in deeply, enjoying every moment locked together because this time might really be the last.
Senwin drew away eventually, his eyes bright in the dim light, and he considered Vahn softly. Vahn gave his professor a coy smile and laced his fingers behind Senwin’s neck, intent to keep him right there.
“You’re out of practice,” Senwin said.
Vahn barked a laugh and before he could shoot back that it was in fact, Senwin who was out of practice, his professor had dipped his head to kiss Vahn’s neck up and down. Warm little touches like sunburst. Vahn kicked his legs, the sensation tickling him, until Senwin put a stop to that. One hand laid itself firmly on Vahn’s thigh, holding it steady.
“Why are you even up here?” Senwin questioned between kisses. His voice buzzed up and down Vahn’s neck, shooting pleasure right through Vahn. “You’re not supposed to be. And getting caught besides…”
Humming, Vahn tilted his head to let Senwin have further access to his neck. “Oh, you know me. Research calls.” He exhaled, content, as Senwin opened the top clasp of his shirt to draw his kisses lower. “I found an anomaly I needed to do proper research for and there wasn’t much down below so… Here I am.”
“Sensible.” Senwin’s teeth grazed Vahn’s neck as he spoke, reminding Vahn of all the love marks they’d leave on one another after many of their trysts.
Senwin pushed another kiss onto Vahn’s mouth and Vahn took the moment to pull him in deeper. With a careful swipe of the hand, the instruments and parchments clattered to the floor and Senwin laid Vahn down on the desk.
“Well?” Senwin asked around their eager kisses. “Are you going to tell me what it is you’re searching for?”
It was then the door opened. Senwin was quick to move off Vahn, a panicked look in his eyes, his glasses askew. All sexy professor locked back up to at least appear professional. Vahn wasn’t sure what the point of that was. It’s not like anyone had cared much before. He propped himself up on his elbows, annoyed, and looked toward their intruder.
At once, terror replaced all else and Vahn forgot to breathe, seeing the High Magician Irius standing there.
“Ah,” Irius said softly. He always spoke softly. It didn’t mean he was soft, however, just that there was no reason to raise his voice. He never had to. “This is what’s keeping you, Senwin.”
High Magician Irius was a man of sharp edges. A piercing gaze of bright blue eyes that reminded Vahn of lightning. Willing to cut through you to find the hidden meaning of your words (or to find a way to twist them to suit his narrative). Gleaming silver hair swept neatly back at all times, the edges curling underneath his ears. His nails were white, like frost. Skin as pale as snow. A ghost, almost. A specter. He wore robes of silver and black, tailored to fit him like a glove. He exuded power in how he stood and existed. Hands clasped, fingers barely touching in front or behind him. A never blinking gaze. A mouth that never saw fit to smile warmly.
And Vahn felt like a child again, caught beneath his gaze so. All the terror caught within, both being in a world he didn’t know and under the strict tutelage of a man who had no patience with younger magicians. When Vahn had gone to university, their time together had dramatically lessened, for which Vahn had immediately appreciated. Irius likely appreciated the same, no longer having to look after a dirt born magician he’d accidentally brought into being.
The last time Vahn had seen Irius was the day Vahn was given the Wayfarer Magician title. The man hadn’t even bothered to see Vahn off like the other High Magicians had, but why would he have bothered? He’d spoken out against Vahn receiving the title at all.
Vahn was frozen beneath Irius’ stare, his heart hammering in his chest.
“High Magician Irius,” Senwin said, his voice clipped and as frosty as Irius’ had been. Senwin was a powerful magician in his own right, rumors abound that he could have been a High Magician too if he hadn’t loved researching and teaching so much to take the time necessary to go through with being a Wayfarer Magician.
When Irius raised his stare and focused on Senwin, Vahn quickly readjusted his clothes and slipped off the desk. Irius tilted his head in mock amusement.
“You’re early,” Senwin pointed out, his back tense.
“I am,” Irius said. “I wanted to cross reference an anomaly I noticed since arriving yesterday afternoon. I heard the automatons returning to their posts and wondered who was foolhardy enough to come in afterhours and get caught.” He stared at Vahn again and raised an eyebrow. “Vahn. I should have known.”
All his disappointment rolled up in so few words. Vahn wanted to be past his reaction to them, but his stomach sank. Always sank. His thoughts emptied in a panic. Like he forgot how to function under Irius’ cold gaze.
“Come with me.”
Senwin jerked forward as Irius turned. The High Magician paused and glanced at Senwin, curiosity barely hiding his annoyance.
“Irius, it’s fine. No harm was done.”
Irius didn’t reply and finished turning. His heavy heels clacked on the hallway’s tiles, announcing his departure to anyone listening.
Vahn could have run. Senwin would have let him. But he didn’t. He never did. Like always, he followed mutely behind Irius, barely able to feel his own body. It was no enchantment; it was nothing but the stark terror running free inside his body.
For a moment, he thought he’d be alone in following Irius, but then Senwin was right there beside him. A little ease stitched Vahn back together, attempting to slow his rapid pulse. Somehow, Senwin always had that effect on Vahn.
He was the sole reason Vahn had become the Wayfarer Magician. He’d believed in Vahn so strongly, he’d done everything he could to prove it to everyone else who wanted to dismiss Vahn out of hand. Without Senwin, Vahn would have been no more than a court magician—back to the dirt as others had wanted of him—or, more likely, would have been a researcher. While Vahn would have been happy with researching his days away, Senwin had wanted more for him. A brilliant mind such as Vahn’s would have been wasted locked up in stuffy archival rooms. He’d given Vahn the only thing that mattered: wanderlust.
Vahn wouldn’t be who he was without Senwin. That he followed, stood beside Vahn as an equal, and didn’t bow to Irius as everyone else did, must have meant something.
Irius took them to another office all the way down the hall. It was too early for anyone else to be here, especially since there was the High Magician Q&A in a few hours. All available hands would be working to prepare the meeting hall for whatever spell or research Irius was unveiling. Why it was him and not Magdelena as Citrine had said was a mystery to Vahn. It must have been something big.
In contrast to the bland office from before, this one was decked out in everything a High Magician would need in town. The taste of Space Magic permeated the air, a frost to it lingering on Vahn’s tongue. There were star charts tacked up and spread out, glyphs for time and space neatly drawn in Irius’ exact hand, and a diagram of the known cosmos. Whatever he was planning to unveil was beyond most magicians.
Irius sat at the desk in the high-backed chair of mauve cushions he’d been provided. The movement jolted Vahn out of trying to understand what Irius was researching. The High Magician looked almost bored as he waited. He’d leaned his chin on his palm and watched Vahn. Like he always did.
Vahn cleared his throat. “I can explain.”
“Yes, please explain why once again, you had your legs open instead of what you were supposed to be doing.”
Any basic explanation flew from Vahn’s thought in an instant. Embarrassment flared through his entire body. His bangles shifted and he pressed his hands together so they’d clink softly. He swallowed the rush of magic the sudden embarrassment had brought. Only a few minutes in front of Irius and he was already losing control over the basics. He wasn’t supposed to let Irius ruffle him so badly, yet it happened every time.
Irius continued watching him, waiting, but Vahn was too stunned to string together words.
Senwin cut in. “Irius, this is on me.”
Irius cut a glance at Senwin. “Vahn can make you bend and break with a single incantation,” he reminded. Senwin’s jaw tensed. It was true. “He’s as much a willing party to this as you are.” Irius tilted his head, sighing. “And I tire of your games, Senwin, as I was tired when he was your most prized student.” He said the words like Vahn hadn’t earned his right to be a prized student. Words as sharp as a blade. “I understand some of the staff have… Trysts with their students on occasion. We generally look away because we’re all consenting adults. But, honestly…” He steepled his fingers together. “You should have known better.”
Known better because Vahn was a dirt born magician.
“High Magician Irius, please,” Vahn whispered, hating how meek his voice had turned. “Let me just speak.”
Irius waved a hand at him. “Yes, I am still waiting. When you were given the coveted title of Wayfarer Magician—over a dozen more qualified applicants well into their years of study and not barely into adulthood—you were given strict instructions, one of the most important ones being you do not return until we summon you to showcase a mastery of control over the wild. And yet, barely six months later, I find you lurking up here. Afterhours like a thief in a library you should not be in for so many reasons and certainly not to be fucked by your darling professor.”
Vahn took in a practiced breath. “I am aware.”
“Then, pray tell, why? Do you mock this institution?”
If Irius would just let Vahn speak, maybe he’d learn the answer. “Because”—Vahn gritted his teeth as Irius once again opened his mouth—“because I found King Elwick of the Wild.” He spat it out so fast, Irius had no time to cut him off.
The name made Senwin gasp and he faced Vahn, shocked. Irius’ shock was always more subdued. His eyes hardened. A breath was caught in his throat. Good. Vahn had his attention this time and he wouldn’t be dismissed out of hand.
“My intention was to find a reason for his existence,” Vahn continued slowly, keeping his voice measured. “For why he exists as he does and what I can do about him.”
“Nothing can be done about him,” Irius whispered, his voice grave.
Vahn raised his eyebrows. “You know about him?”
Irius narrowed his eyes. “Of course I do. I am a High Magician. He is of no concern, especially not to you.”
“Of no concern?!” Vahn snapped, heart rapid once more. “W-Why aren’t we taught of him? He’s literal walking Wild Magic.”
“What would we teach beyond that?” Irius shot back, as cool and level as ever. “He’s a deranged fit of Wild Magic masquerading as a man and lays claim on the magic below us. Hardly anything else of note.” He huffed, shaking his head. “We leave him to his devices. He’s never saw fit to bother the magicians we send below and, more importantly, he cannot come up here. He is of no threat whatsoever.”
Flashes of Ramvale flew through Vahn’s thoughts. All the young women once ensnared in a dance with Elwick. The enormity of his hunt, all the damned souls he’d collected through however long he’d been wandering the world. “You leave him to do what he wills?” Vahn approached the desk. “He—”
“He is attracted to magic,” Irius stressed, danger behind his voice. A coil of power rushed through the room from his annoyance at being questioned at all. Vahn bit down on his tongue. “Wild Magic specifically. Once the object of his obsession is devoured, he moves on and grows dormant. Honestly, it’s an easy way to keep any rogue magician in check down there. One day, Elwick will come for them and that’s that.”
The callous way Irius spoke sparked a fire underneath Vahn’s skin. “Are you serious?” he demanded. “He was going to destroy an entire village. An entire farming village of no magical aptitude at all. He was going to kill everyone.” Irius stopped, real shock replacing his boredom. “I stopped him. I had to.”
Senwin touched Vahn’s shoulder. His face had grown ashen, his eyes wide. “Vahn…”
“I fought the man and lived,” Vahn forged on. Why were they acting like he’d done the unthinkable?
Irius’ expression drew dark, his eyes flinting bright with magic. He laid his hands flat on the desk. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“And why wouldn’t I?” Vahn asked, incredulous. “He would have killed everyone in that village had I not done something. He is after a friend of mine and—”
Irius stood, a show of force propelling him to his feet, and Vahn halted. “What does that matter?” he demanded, just shy of raising his voice. “If the village drew his ire, they deserved their fate. If a single person accrues the same, they as well.” Irius leaned in, towering over Vahn. “What did you do to Elwick?”
Vahn hesitated. Irius wasn’t mad because the town was saved; he was mad Vahn had interfered at all. That he’d done something to Elwick. There was more to this than Vahn was seeing, but he had no time to unravel the truth.
“Vahn,” Irius snapped, his voice like a whipcrack. “What did you do?”
There was no reason to be afraid. Vahn set his shoulders, meeting Irius’ glare with one of his own. “He tried to take my magic, but I’d set a trap for him. As he drained my magic to take, I drained his in turn.”
For the first time in Vahn’s life, he saw Irius truly shocked.
“With Arcane Magic?” Senwin whispered and when Vahn nodded, he saw a proud smile grace his professor’s lips. “Incredible.”
Yet Irius still stared at Vahn like he should have been dead for the same feat. He got his wits about him with a blink.
“You let Elwick touch you,” the High Magician breathed, eyes darting across Vahn as though looking for any sign of Elwick on Vahn’s person.
“And I lived,” Vahn reminded. “I won.”
“But now,” Irius forged on, like Vahn hadn’t even spoken, “now, he will want you. He will be obsessed with you and never cease. You gave him a glimpse of magic he was never to have access to by design!”
“And what was I supposed to do instead?” Vahn cried. “I’m studying magic! He is magic by your own admission!”
Irius exhaled sharply through his nose and sat back down. “Have some sense,” he snapped. “You let it run its course. It’s simply nature.”
“Nature?!” Vahn repeated, aghast. “It’s not anything of the sort. You are willfully ignoring the lives he’s destroyed. Have you ever seen the Wild Hunt he carries with him?” Vahn sped on, even as Irius opened his mouth for another damned interruption. “How monstrously large it is? Have you never helped anyone stand against him? What good is the High Magician title if you all hide up here and pretend the World Below doesn’t exist after you’ve finished taking it for all it has? Are you all just cowards?”
Perhaps Vahn should have left off the last bit. Maybe he should have quit scarcely a line in. Irius’ expression had grown so impossibly dark. His eyes narrowed until they glowed. His mouth pressed into a thin line of disgust. Senwin was no help for this outburst; he’d grown still, holding his breath.
With a deep breath, the motion smoothing his expression, Irius spoke again. “You have put the Floating World at great risk. Should he have been still attached to you like the wraith he is and you returned here, he could have taken our magic for all it was worth and killed us all. All our spells rely on their predictability. If you introduce chaos, the wild, into that, then we fall. And it wouldn’t have just been this island—he could have gone to every single one through the transporters before we even knew what was happening.”
Vahn swallowed, his breathing turning shallow.
“And all for what?” Irius sneered, his anger growing louder. “Someone? First you disregard your agreement to not return and now you disregard this one. Vahn, tell me, what else did you promise the council that you have admitted to breaking?”
Terror clutched Vahn, whisking away all strength he’d built into words. He stood before the High Magicians once again, all their magistrates gazing down on him from up on high as they bestowed upon him the coveted title of Wayfarer Magician. How small he’d felt back then standing before such power. How terrified he’d been. All of it washed over him anew.
He swallowed, remembering the words well. “To not grow attached,” Vahn whispered. “The world below is fleeting for one such as I.”
Irius folded his hands on the desk. “Precisely.”
The crash of magic came from a silent spell, like a hand against Vahn’s face. Vahn was not prepared. He never was. He stumbled, shouting out in pain as the magic drove itself deep into his skin, no counterspell fast enough to stop it. A second blow came, just as hard. Vahn gritted his teeth in pain, resisting as best he could.
“Irius,” Senwin stressed. Vahn hardly heard him over the ringing in his ears. “Stop. That is enough.”
“Is it?”
Another blow came, this one stronger than the last, fueled with Irius’ simmering anger. Vahn couldn’t stay standing and dropped to his knees, shaking. He had no defense. Nothing he did stood against the attacks, so all he could do was endure. Just like when he was younger. It never changed. Each blow pushed pain the deepest it would go until Vahn felt it all over. No one ever saw this side of Irius in the Floating World. The one who enacted pain without so much as blinking. So much as showing regret for having to do so at all. Often Vahn wondered if Irius enjoyed what he could do to those lesser than him.
“You are not to be attached,” Irius lectured, almost bored. “Now, with your attachment, your belief someone down there should be cared for more than the gifts we granted you, you have put the entire Floating World at risk.”
The pain stopped at once. The lesson was over, leaving pain seared into Vahn’s skin. Vahn fell forward and caught himself before collapsing outright. Gasps escaped his lips and he quickly gained control over his breathing lest Irius grow tired of it too. There were always bruises where people couldn’t see. It hurt to take in deep breaths; they’d be concentrated around his ribs, then. His nose was bleeding, too. He’d bitten his lip as well and tasted blood on his tongue. Tears had streaked down his cheeks, leaving them cold. Irius watched, like he always had, as Vahn recomposed himself. Blood smeared on the back of his hand. His cheeks wiped clean. Breathing evenly.
“This,” Irius continued, shooting a glare at Senwin for having the audacity to reach out to help Vahn. Senwin stopped short. “This was an unnecessary risk, Vahn. I hope you see that. You put us in danger for a single person.”
Had Vahn? It was more than a single person, but that singular one did drive him up here for answers. All this had been for Hawke.
“And, now you’re here,” Irius droned on, bored once more as he leaned on his hand. “Perhaps this is telling. Perhaps you aren’t worthy of continuing this tract.”
The world felt like it stopped. Vahn couldn’t help but gasp. Senwin jerked forward, halfway between shock and anger, and slammed his hand on the desk. Irius considered him coldly, raising an eyebrow.
“No, Irius. You can’t just do that. He’s earned the title.”
“I can do that,” Irius argued, his voice tight. “The way I see it, Vahn has shirked his duty. In the months he’s been down there, he has not sent one word of what he’s learned. What he’s uncovered about his magic and how it reacts to the Wild Magic. As I see it, he has eschewed his duties for passing fancies.”
“It’s been half a year!” Senwin shouted over Irius. The High Magician narrowed his eyes, like he dared Senwin to interrupt him again. “No one finds their footing that fast. You are being harsh for a personal hatred. You are not thinking clearly.”
“And you’re any different?” Irius snapped, slamming his own hand down. Power oscillated through the room. A warning. “As I suspected, Vahn is fit to be no more than a court magician.” He waved the same hand and the Space Magic lingering in the air opened above the desk. A tome appeared, laying itself gently on the desk, and a quill came next. The book opened on its own and the quill began writing.
Vahn couldn’t breathe. He had no excuse for not sending up word for what he’d found. His tome was back at Citrine’s place; he couldn’t just show it now either. He’d simply been too enamored with Wild Magic to even think about the Floating World. And then, by the time he’d cobbled real spells together, there was Hawke. His own reluctance to entering Spire Cities fueled Vahn’s own reluctance. He would have gone eventually, of course, but everything together had become a perfect storm leading to this.
Vahn’s removal.
It sunk in further and his breathing became sparser. Lungs squeezing with panic. He shook his head, arguments failing against his lips.
“Irius.” Senwin snatched the quill, smearing the ink as he did so, and Irius once more glared at him darkly. “You cannot do this. Please.”
Irius slowly stood and plucked the quill out of Senwin’s hand. Senwin didn’t try to take it again as the quill returned to its edict. “You lost the right to argue with me when I found you between his legs, eagerly attempting to undress him.” Irius spread his arm toward Vahn, disgusted. “Who’s to say he didn’t let you fuck him for the recommendation? Would you like to lose your title too? I can replace you.”
Senwin froze. Barely breathing. In truth, Irius would never be able to replace him. Not his talents. Senwin had a knack for research no one could match, but that didn’t matter. Irius would simply do it to prove his point. And that was where Senwin stopped championing for Vahn. Vahn saw it coming, but it still hurt the way the professor he’d shared so much of himself with stepped back with a haunted look.
“Please,” Vahn choked out. Irius didn’t look at him, merely at the words being written across the tome. “Irius, listen to me, please.”
“There is a lord without a magician who has been growing agitated and has threatened war against his neighbors.” Irius touched the page and the writing glittered to life, casting him in a soft blue glow. “His magician ran away three years ago and have not been found since. No matter. She’s likely dead. You’ll be a good fit. Simply use your extracurricular activities to appease him and make him forget all about his petty fights.”
Vahn blinked. “What?”
Irius looked at him, annoyed. “You’re adept at bending over, it seems. Do that. He’ll get the picture what you’re there for. It’s not like you’re good for much else, after all.”
The air felt like it was dragged from Vahn’s lungs. Shock. Yes, that must have been what he was feeling. Multiple nightmares became truth in an instant. He blinked, forcing in a breath. Shook his head when the words wouldn’t come.
Court Magicians were to help guide leaders of the World Below away from petty fighting. As much as the World Above hated to admit to it, they relied on certain things only the World Below could provide. High Magicians saw to the World Below’s safety with Court Magicians placed in strategic places to best minimize problems. While the job wasn’t what many magicians wanted, simply for the fact they were away from the World Above, it wasn’t supposed to be punishment.
Not like this.
“No,” Vahn said and Irius frowned. “No. Don’t do this to me, Irius.”
“You’ve shown you are not worthy of the Wayfarer Magician title, despite your potential, Vahn,” Irius said, softening his voice like it mattered. “I knew it would always end this way. It was only a matter of how long. Congratulations, you lasted months longer than I originally thought.”
The way to the door was short enough. Vahn could run. Blast them both backward with a quickly incanted air spell, but he’d never make it all the way outside. Irius was a High Magician. Such tricks wouldn’t work on him, a man with no bangle to stifle his magic. A man suffused with mastery of all the magic around them and then more in his very being.
No. Running wouldn’t work. Nothing would.
“Please,” Vahn whispered, shaking.
Because next came the crash of magic once more. Vahn hit the floor again, the crash so great, his vision blotted out in white long enough, it left him disoriented. He stayed down this time, blood trickling anew from his nose. Tears cold on his cheeks. Senwin stayed frozen, a useless statue. His brilliant mind and standing far more important than Vahn. And Vahn couldn’t find it in him to be angry. He was just sad.
No one was coming to help him.
Irius came out from around the desk. As he knelt beside Vahn, he gathered his robes around him. Like a parent kneeling down to talk to their child. Except this was so far removed from that. The man was cold, calculating, wrapped up in all his silent hatred. He touched Vahn’s chin and Vahn hated that he flinched away. Irius tightened his grip on Vahn’s chin and forced him to look up.
“I have business to conclude here, Vahn.” Irius always spoke Vahn’s name like it was a disease. “But when I finish here, I will take you back to the council with me where we will trade in your bangles and meet your new lord.”
Magic coiled in Vahn’s throat. In his fingertips. Anger flaring bright for a single moment. He could let go, direct it all at Irius, but the bangles would stop any true outburst. One he craved deep down. Whatever he did now wouldn’t be enough. Irius would be prepared and all Vahn would end up hurting was Senwin. Instead, Vahn just stared, willing himself to wake up from this nightmare.
“And this time,” Irius continued, “you’ll listen to me, won’t you?”
In the High Magician’s fingertips was a spell too fast to stop. It forced itself down Vahn’s throat and from there, spiderwebbed a pitch-black consciousness through Vahn that he couldn’t fight against. The last thing Vahn felt before the darkness became all he felt was how cold the tile was when he hit it.
🙡🙢
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