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Chapter Text

3 Years Ago

Corona’s prison barge had been overthrown months ago. Not that anyone was the wiser. Saporians, dressed in royal guard apparel, were undetectable as imitations, marching the same circuits the guards always had. Should anyone from the mainland choose to examine the floating dungeon, they’d spot nothing out of the ordinary as it floated closer and closer to the capital. Undercover, the Saporians traversed on and off the barge at will, sneaking equipment and elements on board.

In Varian’s old cell, turned workspace, a lantern containing his newest concoction sat on a worktable made of a door lying flat atop two crates. The mixture glowed an arcane green. A back wall was plastered with crossed out equations, schematic variations, and tally marks he’d eventually given up on.

Kneeling, Varian worked on their integral instrument. Soldering with his bandana pulled up to his goggles, fusing mount plate to frame, the torch roared in his ears. It took a while to notice someone repeating his name in a muffled shout. He flicked the tool off and turned, yanking the bandana down to expose his face.

“Time’s up,” said Andrew, elbows resting on either side of the open cell door. “We’re moving into position.”

“Almost done.” Varian stood and lifted a drum magazine. The weight inside teetered as a glut of miniature alchemy orbs rolled about in the chamber. He affixed it to the device with a twist and click.

Sauntering inside, Andrew bent to inspect the contraption. Seated on a two-wheeled mount, the rapid-fire weapon housed six barrels spun by a crank. The gravity fed drum would drop orb after orb into the chamber of each barrel. A set of guide handles weren’t just for aiming but had squeeze triggers built into them that fired the orbs in a constant barrage. “Whoa. You weren’t wrong.” Andrew straightened, seeming pleased. “Looks like this thing’ll make a mess out of anyone who stands in our path.” He rewarded Varian with a punch in the arm and a winning grin. “Good job, buddy.” 

Varian lifted his goggles and frowned. “No, no. This is an alchemical-loaded rotary cannon of my own design. I’ve stocked it with non-lethal ammunition. It’ll stop people, sure, but it won’t hurt anybody.” Saporians, if allowed their ways, could be petty, aggressive, and righteously sadistic. He didn’t want suffering as much as justice, a righting of the scales.

A rumble of irritation crossed Andrew's face, and his eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t the deal. They will try to hurt us.”

Standing his ground, Varian shook his head. He swung a pack full of additional orbs over his shoulders, cache resting against his long Saporian coat. “This is my deal. No one can repent what they’ve done if they don’t survive.” A storm brewed within him, erratic and dangerous. Images flashed through his mind as a series of pictures.

Amber.

Snow.

Rapunzel in the arms of her family while he remained an orphan.

Pain flared so sharply it almost cut through his chest. A throb of red formed around his vision. His fists, in their embellished gloves, clenched. “And I am owed restitution.”

Easygoing Andrew cracked a laugh. “Love that Darkness. It’s a good look on you.” He picked up the glowing green lantern filled with Quirinian and headed out.

Varian forced a few deep, quaking breaths, to no avail. All he owned was suffering, rage, and memory. Prison barge guards had taken Ruddiger from him when he arrived. Varian had no idea what happened to him. In his cell, the only thing he’d had to do was contemplate, sinking into his wrath, falling deeper and deeper into a pit with no light at the top. When he tried to explain the feeling to his cellmate, Andrew called it his Darkness, with a capital D. The name stuck.

With no friends, and certainly no one who believed in him, the only constant in his life was Andrew’s presence. Desperate for approval, scant praise from Andrew caused something to harden and clarify inside Varian, like carbon under pressure. He learned to ball his anger and redirect it, confirming that this course must be his destiny, as every solution he could think of led to the same place – revenge.

When the Saporians arrived to sack the barge, they’d come for Andrew but adopted Varian as a bonus. Eager to impress his new clan, he spent months teaching the basics of alchemy to refugees from a lost kingdom that leaned heavily on magic. They were a people without a homeland, and greedy enough to readily accept new methods of devastation in order to get what they wanted.

Varian wheeled his rotary cannon out of the housing of interior cells and onto the barge deck. It was the middle of the night. The island of Corona drew nearer, the castle’s gleaming towers reaching for the stars. Dark streets were vacant, citizens in their beds and none the wiser.

Saporians tossed out berthing lines, securing them to posts at the harbor. The barge knocked against the dock with a gentle thump. Out in the night, a few muffled grunts marked waterfront guards being subdued. “Let’s go, kid,” Andrew said, disembarking with a wink. The lantern dangled from his hand. “It’s your big moment.”

Armed with swords, maces, and witchcraft, the Saporians slipped through the harbor and the empty streets of the sleeping city. Varian rolled the cannon alongside them, its wheels skipping along cobblestone streets. He waited to feel something, anything. It didn’t feel like going home. There was nothing left to reclaim.

They set up before the palace gates. At the center, Varian kicked locks into place at the bottom of the cannon’s wheels. The Saporians shifted and leered in anticipation, adjusting weapons and looking to Andrew for the signal. Without a word, Andrew hurled the Quirinian lantern to smash against the palace gates. A mild explosion sent green flames to lick up the entry arch. The gates cracked but held.

Voices rose, the sounds of guards mobilizing inside the courtyard that separated the gates from the castle. Andrew gave Varian a delighted smile and nodded. The Saporians stepped to either side of the gates, clearing a path. Varian pulled his goggles down. He turned the hand crank on the cannon until it built enough kinetic energy for the barrels to rotate on their own.

Staring down the sight as the barrels spun, Varian gripped the cannon’s guide handles. This was it, the night he’d reckon with Rapunzel for the final time. An ending was close. His soul filled with serrated edges, all broken glass and gravel. Tears welled as he clenched his teeth.  

The gates opened. A sliver of golden light poured from inside the palace walls.

“For you, dad,” he whispered, and squeezed the triggers.

Chapter Text

Boredom wasn’t something Varian was accustomed to. If this was the reality of being an adult, it sucked, and someone should have warned him. The crush of responsibility led to an atrophy of inspiration, his hours filled with necessity instead of wonder. Carrying a bucket of tools in one hand while steadying a length of replacement piping over a shoulder, he flinched, feeling spoiled as he walked the streets of his city.

Dawn over Corona was always a beautiful sight, sunlight gleaming off the castle towers and causing the surrounding sea to sparkle. The long-awaited marriage of Rapunzel and Eugene had ushered in an era of harmony. While the kingdom rejoiced, celebrations ran rampant, and fewer restrictions marred trade between the kingdoms. Well, between five of the seven kingdoms – Koto kept to itself, and Galcrest, now the Dark Kingdom, had little to offer.

Several bountiful seasons in Old Corona left its residents in high spirits, and allowed for Varian’s father, Quirin, to join him on the castle grounds, serving as right hand to King Frederick. Their quarters in the palace felt luxurious compared to the drafty, wooden domicile Varian had grown up in. Even after years, his clothes still felt lavish – starched collar, maroon vest with all its buttons still attached, quality boots, and gauges on his gloves – none of it patched or second-hand. Though glad to have what he did, Varian experienced a slight unease, a sense that he didn’t quite deserve the handouts.

Trapped in a cocoon of tedium, Varian’s career had him running daily repairs on the maze of above-ground pipes running down the side-streets and back alleys of the capital. Those pipes connected thirteen underground heating tanks that supplied hot water throughout Corona. It was the smallest of problems that made his workload constant. Stress kept pushing screws out of the pipeline, resulting in a loss of pressure and subsequent flooding. It was a monotonous chore to walk the length of the entire system each morning, checking for leaks, his steel-toed boots sloshing through puddles and runoff from his own construction.

Today, the culprit was a cross-section that affected a series of residences behind Xavier’s smithy. After shutting down the coordinating boiler, Varian came back up to surface to tend to the line. Stripped screws had widened their holes. The entire section needed to be replaced. Varian blew hair out of his face and got to work.

As he toiled, Xavier’s voice drifted through the curtain separating a rear exit from the alley, telling stories to customers, whether they wished for it. Varian’s father hadn’t been much of a storyteller. The books he’d read to himself hadn’t been in the fairytale genre. Most of his collection was heavy Dark Age tomes with pages of thick parchment, yellowed and brittle.

Specifics of Xavier’s tale didn’t land until the words ‘Elixir of Life’ drew Varian’s attention. He lowered his wrench and turned his head, listening with intent now. “A potion of wonder!” Xavier claimed. “One to grant immortality and cure death itself.”

Varian took a step towards the curtain, thought better of it, then stepped back. A debate over the historical accuracy of legends was only likely to spur Xavier onto a different, equally droll topic. Going back to his task, he slotted a fresh screw into the new pipe and tightened it.

“Of course,” said Xavier, “this story is closely tied to that of the Philosopher’s Stone, a mythical object capable of turning anything in existence to the purest gold.”

Varian bit his lip. The Philosopher’s Stone was the central symbol of alchemy and finding it a practitioner’s Magnum Opus, the highest esteem one could wish for. Personally, Varian viewed the object as being more of a spiritual prize than a physical one. Otherwise, the Stone veered away from alchemy and closer to magic, a practice that Varian knew but didn’t care for the study of.  

As the resident expert, Varian stepped halfway into the smithy, holding the curtain wide. He coughed. “Ahem. See, the gold part is basically a ploy to get people to look for it. May I assure you, if anything like that actually existed, someone would have definitely found it by now. Not like there’s this vast group of alchemists out there, roaming the Earth for mystical objects. That’s just… that’s not what we do.”

Three customers stared at him. “But you’re a repairman,” one said.

Varian’s bubble of superiority popped. “I – wha, no! That is not what I do.”

A second pointed to the tools scattered in the alley behind him. “Sure looks like it.”

“I… This is a temporary assignment! Once I get back to my actual work, I’ll –”

“Come, come now, Varian,” Xavier said. He led Varian back into the alley and placed wide hands on his shoulders. “Don’t get yourself worked up. Look at all you’ve accomplished here in Corona. It’s practically everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“I, yeah. Um, sorta. Practically…” A wash of guilt ran over him for causing a scene in Xavier’s store. “Thanks, Xavs. I’m gonna…” Varian waved a finger around behind him. “Ya know, finish up. Have a good day.”

“You, too, my boy.” Xavier went back inside.

A dark cloud hung over Varian as he completed his job. He picked up his bucket of tools and slapped the pipe with enough force for the structure to wobble. After turning the pump back on, he headed for his workshop, knowing he needed an escape. He passed people on the streets with his head down, avoiding eye contact, and holding the lid on his Darkness sealed tight.

Rumors of him being dangerous, even as a child before he did anything truly hideous, put a barrier between him and the world at large, making him an outcast. Respect for his father was the only reason they hadn’t been banished from Old Corona the first time he blew up most of the village. Deep down, Varian knew people appreciated him, but he didn’t have close friends, certainly no one his age, and no collaborators. His job made him revert to an outsider, just another cog in the machine that made Corona turn.

Not that he thought much about personal wants or emotions. Every so often, that terrifying streak of Darkness appeared, peering around corners, trying to influence his decisions. Since he couldn’t trust himself, he kept busy instead.

Reaching his workshop, he tossed the bucket aside, sank into a chair, and put his head on his alchemy table. Hair tumbled over his face, his teal streak shielding one eye. He’d spent his whole life with a lock of hair that maintained an otherworldly hue. No amount of tests ever told him why.

From a plush basket near the table, Ruddiger chittered, putting paws on Varian’s leg. Varian fished an apple out of a hanging sack and passed it down to the raccoon. He leaned back in his chair and let his head fall, staring vacantly up at his workspace as Ruddiger gnawed on the snack.

The vastness of the Demanitus Chamber dwarfed him and his equipment, awe-inspiring even in its dilapidated state. A sealed structure in case of calamity, the space had confined various explosions throughout the years. Varian had once found the chamber motivating, touched by a greatness he both envied and admired. Now it held a frustrating sense of longing.

The world stood on a precipice of discovery and forward momentum. Word traveled from other kingdoms about combustible powders, air travel, and electricity. Though he owned Demanitus’ tome of plans, research and machinations, Varian had reached a limit on what he could do. Without a teacher, he felt adrift, the wonders of future inventions beyond his capabilities.

“You’re the Royal Engineer, am I correct?”

Varian’s chair tipped back, and he banged his elbow. Ruddiger scrambled up the table, hissing, tail stiff and bristled. People had learned not to disturb him lest they risk detonating an experiment. “I – yeah,” he said, getting to his feet. “Hi! That’s me.” Clutching his arm, he forced a cheerful smile, doing his best to represent Corona.

A thin woman descended the chamber’s stairs with feline grace. She was outfitted in a leather-edged girdle with pewter studs over a high-necked blouse, her trousers tucked into tall boots. Long, plaided gray hair hung over one shoulder. There was no color or flair in her ensemble. As she drew nearer, Varian saw that her olive-toned face housed a Lichtenberg scar – a branching electrical burn that crept up one side of her face. A sheathed blade rode her hip. Her eyes raked his face. “Are you Ulla’s child? My… You have her eyes.”

Ulla.

Dad never said his mother’s name anymore. Varian had only vague recollections of hearing it at all. Not that he spent much time thinking of her – the absence of any substantial information made her a stranger, a phantom figure he’d never known. He took a small step towards the visitor. “You… you knew my mother?”

“I did. My name is Donella. Perhaps you’ve heard mention of me?”

Varian racked his brain. “I… No. Never.”

“Pity. Though, I can’t say I’m surprised.” She scrutinized his lab through narrowed eyes.

Hands behind his back, Varian shifted uncomfortably, doing his best to appear impressive. Most of Demanitus’ belongings had been removed to his tomb for storage. What littered the workshop now was Varian’s own plans and equipment. Up to shoulder-height, the walls held a near solid jumble of sketched tables, shorthand notes, bored doodles, and a complicated souffle recipe he’d worked on with Attila last year. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so.” Donella glanced back in his direction. “What if I told you your mother wasn’t lost to us forever?”

Confusion filled Varian’s head, along with a tinge of anger at the topic. “I’d… call you a liar.”

Her laugh was cold and shallow. “Yes, I suppose you would.” She tossed something small and blocky at him. “Here. She wanted you to have this.”

Varian caught the item with ease. It was a hexagonal box that fit in the palm of his hand. Cautiously, he opened it. The inside held a brass compass, elegant and polished. Before his eyes, the needle began to slowly turn. Hypnotic, it drew him in. The needle sped faster and faster, whirling. It came to a sudden stop, snapping due east, not north.

Behind his eyes, Varian found himself blasted with the image of a woman with flowing red hair and bright blue eyes, leaning down towards him with arms extended. A gentle smile bent her lips as she said his name. He took a leap of faith and asked, “Mom…?”

The red-haired woman repeated his name over and over. It echoed, overlapping, becoming louder and louder, taking on a breathless, panicked quality. As the sound reached a shrieking crescendo, Varian clapped hands over his ears, retreating from the assault. The compass dropped and its lid slammed closed. The vision and noise stopped.

Gasping and startled, Varian looked around. Ruddiger sat on the table, front paws to his chest, cocking his head. Donella stood with arms crossed, patiently waiting with a neutral expression. “What – what was that?” he panted.

“A conduit,” said Donella. “Did you see something?”

It was relieving to know she hadn’t shared the experience. If there was any truth to that vision, it had dug deep to retrieve the faintest of Varian’s memories. “I… That’s none of your business.”

“Hardly,” she huffed. “My work with your mother was my business. Now, my livelihood.” She placed a hand on the worktable and another over her heart. Ruddiger scrambled away from her. “The world is rushing towards progress,” she confessed. “And the age of alchemy is drawing to a close. Unless we act.”

Donella wasn’t wrong. The more Varian understood, the wider the gap seemed between mystical sciences and hard engineering. Small wonder that those who lived simple lives classified both as magic, things too complex to fathom. His voice was small and unsure, asking, “What would we have to do?”

The shadow of smile traced Donella’s mouth. The hand over her heart formed a fist. “As a young man of science, I’d assume you’re familiar with the Seven Stages of Alchemy?”

“Uh, yeah. You could say that.” Of course, he was acquainted with the Seven Stages of Alchemy. This was basic knowledge he’d had since he was a child. He’d probably memorized the steps before he was big enough to see over the kitchen table.

Donella leaned in his direction. “Prima Materia.”

Varian frowned, struggling with the translation. “First… matter? First element? Of what?”

“Oh, child.” She stepped away and gestured to the chamber. “You seat yourself in the shadow of a giant yet know nothing.” Heading back to the stairs, she said, “If Quirin is the man I remember, he clings too tightly to the past. Show him the compass. And ask for his excuse.”

“Wait!” he called after her. “What do you mean? And how was my mother involved? I – I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”

Halfway up, Donella paused and turned back, slipping a hand into a trouser pocket. “Well, that’s very clear,” she chided. “You’re asking the wrong questions. Do better if you ever want to see your mother again.”

Her hand flipped up with a flourish. The surrounding air shimmered like it did on a sweltering day. With a flicker, she vanished from sight.

“Well… that was dramatic,” Varian muttered. His gaze lingered on the spot she disappeared from, questions flipping through his head too fast to fully form. He kneeled to retrieve the compass, keeping the lid firmly closed. Ruddiger rubbed between his ankles, providing comfort after a thoroughly bewildering event.

Filling his lungs, he broke into a sprint, taking stairs two at a time, racing to find his father.

Chapter Text

The double doors that led to their castle chamber were easily taller than the house Varian and his father previously occupied. Varian twisted the handle and swung a door wide. Tall, narrow windows ran floor-to-ceiling, allowing their space to be drenched in sunlight during the day. Their space was bisected, one side Varian’s, cleaner than some might expect, but due to the fact he was hardly present. Ruddiger clawed his way to the top of Varian’s bookcase, taking a high perch. The other half of the room, his father’s, held royal pennants, chests, and a tall weapons cabinet.

He’d caught his father after overseeing morning guard training. Quirin stood before the cabinet, replacing an axe on its rack. After Ruddiger scurried inside, Varian shut the door behind him. At the sound, Quirin turned, brows meeting in worried surprise. “Son, are you finished already? I would have thought –”

Varian lifted his hand, presenting the compass. “What is this?”

It took several steps for Quirin to cross the room. He took the compass and turned it over in his hands, inspecting as Varian waited in tense anticipation. His father opened the box. Varian’s hand shot out in warning, should another vision spring from it, but nothing happened. The compass remained mute as Quirin’s expression darkened. He snapped the box closed and rounded on Varian. “That woman… she was here?”

Varian took a step back. Seeing his father in a furious state was always disturbing. “Um… Older woman? Braid? Scar? If the answers are yes, you got it.”

Catching Varian’s posture, Quirin grounded himself. He frowned down at the compass, some tension in his shoulders loosening. “I… forgive me. I wanted to spare you.”

“Spare me? From what?”

A deep sigh made his father deflate further. “The truth.” He wandered to gaze out one window.

After granting Quirin a moment, Varian approached. He had to wonder if sometimes his father stared hard enough to imagine seeing Old Corona in the distance. “Dad?”

Quirin turned the box in his hands a final time before handing it back. “That compass was your mother’s. I haven’t seen it since… since she left with it.”

“Since she left…?” Varian repeated. His mother and science were two topics they never discussed. “Left to go where?”

“I don’t know. And I’ve always regretted that I didn’t ask.” His father’s chin raised, and he squinted, lost in memories. “She went off with her partner, Donella, the woman you saw. And she never came back.”

“A partner for what?”

Quirin dipped his head in a manner so embarrassed that it stunned Varian. “Her studies in alchemy.”

Everything stopped. Neither breathed nor spoke. Even Ruddiger, from his place on Varian’s bookcase, watched with wide, unblinking eyes. Varian swallowed a few times to get his voice working. “Alchemy? Wait, wait. I’m gonna need you to throw this is reverse.”

It seemed to take some effort for Quirin to raise his head. “Ulla was a bright woman. She shocked me with her wit and her capabilities. But I… my way was of the sword, not of science. So, she found collaboration elsewhere.” A fist formed, then loosened. “I never felt right about Donella. Their friendly rivalry often went too far. She kept pushing Ulla, tempting her with wild stories, making her spend all night in the lab.”

My old lab, Varian thought. He felt a strange stab of jealousy that his mother had a partner while he had to struggle alone.

“When they left,” Quirin continued, “well, I wished them the best, for a safe and speedy journey. I wanted her to be happy. I didn’t argue that she stay.” Moisture made his eyes glisten. He glanced at the compass still in his hand. “Months later, I came home from the fields to find Donella alone. And she had my infant child in her arms.”

Varian tried to follow the story as best he could. Everything was so overwhelming. “Wha – me?”

Rage crackled behind Quirin’s eyes. “I snatched you back immediately. The thought of her taking you away as well was too much. We fought, she and I, and she told me your mother had perished in pursuit of their studies. I… told her I would run a sword through her if I ever saw her again.” He shook his head, a sadness creeping back in. “When you decided to work with alchemy, it was my greatest fear coming to life. Understand… understand now, son, that’s why I was hard on you. I needed to be. I couldn’t watch you disappear, too. I wanted to give you a simple life, free from my past… and hers.”

That old sensation of disappointment swept through Varian. “I never wanted a simple life, dad. I’m not a farmer, I’m a scholar.” He glanced out the window, seeing more than the kingdom. He saw the horizon, and the world just beyond his reach. “Donella said my mother isn’t gone. That I could see her again.”

“That woman is a grifter and a temptress.”

“Maybe. But I need to know if she’s also a liar.”

“I forbid it!”

At his father’s outburst, Varian whirled around, a stern expression on his face. “I’m not a child. I have to know more, about what I can do, about the world, about… my mom.” He clasped hands over his heart, gloved fingertips digging into his vest. “There’s this hole inside me. And if following in mom’s footsteps will fill it, that’s something I have to do. If I know who I am, maybe… maybe I’ll know how to fix what’s wrong with me.”

Quirin’s demeanor softened. “Oh, son. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“You know that’s not true,” Varian argued. His father had dealt with the disgrace of Varian’s actions for as long as he could remember. Most of Old Corona had been destroyed during the automaton battle. Though Varian had been incarcerated during the rebuilding, he knew it had been challenging and costly for their village. “What I’ve done –”

“Varian, everyone has forgiven you.” Quirin’s hand inched for Varian’s shoulder.

Varian tore himself to one side, shame and guilt simmering to a boil inside him. “I haven’t! And I’m the one that has to live with that every moment of every day. I can bury it, pretend, get sidetracked, but it is there. Always. And I… I don’t know how to be happy useless I can solve it.” Varian felt hot all over, frenzied for answers. “What if this is the chance to do that? Finally? The Prime… whatever… Donella mentioned could be crucial to me finding mom and patching this broken piece of me. I have to try, dad. I have to!”

Quirin fell quiet and pensive, studying the floor between slow blinks.

“I know it’s scary to think you won’t see me again,” Varian said. “Believe me. I get what that feels like. But –” Quirin held up a hand and Varian closed his mouth. He waited, though not patiently. He knew better than to rush his father.

After a time, Quirin spoke. “Perhaps I go too far sometimes. And you’re right. You aren’t a child. If there’s one thing I want more than anything, it’s that you spend your life content.” He handed the compass back to Varian, who pocked it. He then turned, walked to his side of their room, and began rifling through one of his chests. “Now, I know when there’s no talking you out of something. And I’d rather you didn’t go sneaking off in the night with no direction.” He hesitated, something in his hands, before facing Varian. Steeling himself, he held out a fat book.

With shaky hands, Varian took it. The cover was embossed with black, red, yellow, and white engraved images. He recognized most as alchemy element symbols, but they overlapped and intersected, looking an awful lot like a periodic knot. Nothing was written on the spine, and the pages were bound with a twist lock.

“Donella failed to bring your mother back,” said Quirin, “but she did return her journal.”

Varian whipped his head up. “This was my mother’s?”

“It was.”

After swiftly turning the lock, Varian cracked the book open and scanned the first page. In unfamiliar penmanship read the bold title, Magnum Opus. The Eternal Library. He flipped to the next page and found scattered notes. Step one - Prima Materia???? Which? Is there a correct order? Demanitus Device? In Corona? Galcrest? Confer with Don.

He browsed the rest of the book. A few loose-leaf papers, with different handwriting, were tucked inside. The book held a jumble of theories, written as trains of thought, not a thesis at all. Most pages were cramped, written in his mother’s unique shorthand coupled with some type of code. The shorthand was something he’d have to decrypt, but the code… it was numerical fractions and verbiage that, while roughly familiar, were at a master alchemist’s level, far beyond his grade. He’d need some type of key to decipher –

Varian lowered the book, frowning vacantly around the room as he thought. Ruddiger sat on top of his bookcase, ringed tail swinging back and forth.

It took everything Varian had not to drop the book and scream with elation. He did own the work of a master alchemist. The personal journal of Demanitus sat two shelves down from Ruddiger, taken from the man’s tomb by Varian himself. The tome was packed with diagrams and historical accounts, but it also held a vast number of musings and notations that Varian hadn’t been able to follow.

Demanitus Device? one of his mother’s questions had asked.

He scrolled back to the start of the book. EAST, his mother had written in bold, capital letters. The first stage. The first Trial.

Stage…

I’d assume you’re familiar with the Seven Stages of Alchemy? Donella said.

Varian held his breath. Seven Stages. Seven… Trials? If Demanitus was involved, of course he would make that process integral to his Trials. And east. The compass pointed east.

He clutched his mother’s almanac to his chest and looked back at his father. “Thank you. For letting go.”

Quirin gave a small, timid smile. “It isn’t easy. I… well, I suppose that’s every parent’s struggle.”

Varian ran to his father and threw an arm around him for a hug, the other cradling the journal.

Quirin returned the embrace in a bone-crushing way. “When would you go?”

Varian had waited years for answers to come to him. Why he needed to do such ambitious things. Why he danced the line with his emotions. Why being happy led to guilt, which led to memories, which led to even more questions. “Now. Today.”

“So soon?” Quirin asked, pulling away.

“I don’t want to waste another moment.”

“Then, you shouldn’t.” His father squared his shoulders. “Shall I assist you?”

Remorse wore at Varian. He ducked his head and marched to his bookcase, adding Demanitus’ tome and a blank notebook to create a book pile in his arms. Hesitant to turn around, he lingered. He couldn’t drag his father through any more of his schemes. Varian had put him in difficult positions often enough.

He faced his father and grinned, broadcasting confidence. “No, no. Really. Think of it like a… a field trip! It’ll be a lot of reading and science, honestly. You’d probably be bored to death. I’ve got this, no sweat. Trust me.”

Quirin came forward and squeezed his shoulder. “Take care, son.

Varian swallowed. “I will.”

Less than five minutes later, he was nearly out of the castle, a stack of books in his hands and his mind across the globe. He’d rushed the excuse with his father and knew it. Reality was, Varian knew he could be remarkably capable on his own. He’d done incredible, though awful, things when Quirin was trapped in the amber, and he found himself isolated. If he had to, he could be extraordinary again. But if anyone saw that, the lengths he’d go to, he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover.

And Donella’s threat about the end of alchemy sat heavy in his heart. What did she –

A collision knocked him off his feet and scattered the books.

“Oh my gosh, Varian! Are you okay?” Rapunzel asked. Eugene stood next to her, rubbing the arm Varian had walked into.

Varian hastily collected the books. “No, yeah, I’m fine. Just on m’way out. So, I’m gonna –”

“Hold it right there!” said Eugene, pointing a finger straight at him. “I know a sneak when I see one.”

Kneeling over his books, Varian froze.

Rapunzel sank to his level. “Varian, what’s wrong?”

“I – no, nothing’s wrong. I just… well… I sort of found out that my mom might be alive, and my dad told me she used to be a scientist, which I was like – What? – and then I read her book and it referenced stuff in Demanitus’ book and now I’ve got to figure out what any of that has to do with alchemy as a whole, and there was this other person that showed up, but I won’t get into that, so I’m heading out on a little trip for a bit, though I’m not really sure where to exactly, but –”

“Take a breath, kid,” Eugene urged, using both hands to pull Varian and Rapunzel to their feet.

“Your mom!” Rapunzel squealed, clapping her hands together. “That’s so exciting! Oh, I’ll go with you!”

Varian’s stomach jolted. “Wait –”

“We all will!” Eugene chimed in. “Me, Sunshine, Lance, Shorty – everybody loves Shorty!”

“That’s really not –”

Eugene snapped an arm around Varian. “Road trip, buddy! Oh! We’re gonna need snacks…”

Varian slipped from Eugene’s hold and backed up. “No! I mean, thank you, but… I have to do this on my own. Alone.”

Eugene frowned. “Without your dad?”

“My dad has had a long life of adventures. He figured out his path. And that’s what I’m doing.”

Rapunzel glanced at Eugene, then back to Varian. “So, what’s your dream now, V?”

The truth felt silly to admit. “Time,” he said. “Time to set what’s wrong right. Time enough to see everything, do everything, learn things I could never imagine on my own. And to… not be weird to want that.” He held up his mother’s journal. “My mom felt the same way, and this was her solution. Only… she never finished it. But I can! I know I can! After what we’ve all been through, this is just riddles and equations. I can handle it. Totally oxygen and potassium.” He gave a smile and a snort of amusement.

“Yeah, I don’t get that last part,” said Eugene.

“See, it’s O and K, it’s… an atomic symbol joke.” Varian mumbled, “Hey, don’t worry about it. It… honestly wasn’t that funny…” He gave a start. “My water line! I can’t just leave it…”

“I mean, it’s not like the whole system will fall apart while you’re gone,” said Eugene before panic set in. “Oh, my gosh, what if the whole system falls apart while you’re gone? The shock to my follicles will be unforgiving! And you do not want to see me with split ends. That’s a bad day for everyone.”

“If that happens,” said Rapunzel, patting Eugene’s shoulder as if calming a horse, “we’ll adapt and rebuild. You deserve some time off.”

“Oh, yeah,” Varian asserted, averting his eyes. “That’s… exactly how I’d frame this. Time off.”

Rapunzel gave him a hug. “Whatever happens, don’t lose your spark, Varian.” Again, rang in his ears. She didn’t have to say it.

Images of rocks and robots filled his head. He hugged her back a little tighter, remembering how bleak the world had seemed the last time he was all alone, leeched of hope and happiness, running on retaliation. “I won’t. Promise.”

Rapunzel let him go. “Stay awesome, kid,” said Eugene.

Varian’s laugh almost sounded convincing. “Like there’s a way around it.”

Hot behind the ears, he slunk off before he had to lie to anyone else.

Chapter Text

By the time Varian arrived in Old Corona, arms laden with books, the sun hung low in the sky. He didn’t like to visit. This was a haunted place filled with too many memories.

He hurried up the steps to his family home to spend the evening organizing things – his things – before setting off in the morning. Varian could have requested finer provisions from the palace, but this was his journey, and wanted to keep things as central as possible, grounding him for the road ahead.

Once he set the books down on the kitchen table, he stepped back. The house stood the same as always, save for a layer of dust and a few more cobwebs. A family portrait hung in an alcove, likely painted by a street vendor on the island capital. Sure enough, the woman in the image was identical to the one that sprang from the compass. They all looked happy.

Guilt, Varian’s old acquaintance, trickled in. He knew the hardships his father endured funding his hobbies, and couldn’t count the amount of equipment he, often literally, burned through over the years. Beakers and burners, test tubes in their racks, flasks, droppers, thermometers, quality sealants, books and elements from far-off lands, base components to make even the simplest of machines – springs, cogs, and metals. The list was endless. Quirin was in the fields before sunrise until long after dark, gone every market day in the city and neighboring villages. They’d worn patched and threadbare clothing. Varian would never reach his father’s stature, often going hungry for the chance to fill his mind instead.

Varian shook his head to clear it and set about filling his father’s enormous traveling pack. He stuffed it with a modest tent, bedroll, leather canteen, quills and ink, and a flint rock and steel for fire. A quick trip to the fields and he came back with ample fresh produce. He swept their pantry for road provisions, leaving the entire nook empty, and headed to his lab. Extra alchemy supplies went in, and he tied the pack closed.

He rubbed his hands together before setting to work on a series of alchemy orbs. A pink orb contained wheat paste, gelatin and resin – his adhesive mix. White held a dissolving solution, mostly sodium via rock salt. Purple caused an eruption of smoke and confusion, made from dry ice, pigment and a disorienting gas. Blue was the easiest, a bubble solution made from lard and water, plus sodium hydroxide and potassium hydroxide – lye. The final, green, held a mix of corrosive acids. A dangerous concoction, he named it Last Resort, and was careful handling it.

Last, he created a trio of chemlights in a green shade, comprising a phosphorescent, but acidic, concoction. Using tongs, he poured the mixture into slim test tubes and topped them with cork stoppers. The compounds tended to separate, and he’d have to periodically shake the vial to make it work.

By then, it was late. Varian grabbed the books and some fruits and headed to his old bedroom. After lighting a few candles to read by, he climbed into bed. It was strange to sit on his lumpy, straw-stuffed mattress instead of enjoying palace opulence. He felt fourteen again, well-meaning, but lost in direction.

He chewed his meager meal and read, scanning sporadic notes on a destination for his mother’s venture. Mention of a library came up multiple times. Referring to Demanitus’ Tome, he got better direction... sort of. The Eternal Library, Demanitus’ had written. A home for all words one wishes to seek. That was it. The next page held schematics for a cannon that shot flames.

Varian lowered the book. Was that where his mother hid – living her life out in an archive of infinite knowledge? But… starting from when? And ending when? Demanitus had died a two millennia ago. Progress in the fields of science and engineering since then were vast. Sure, reflections on the past were interesting, but not particularly useful.

He rubbed at his face, beginning to empathize with his mother writing in questions, not statements. Setting Demanitus’ Tome aside, he switched back to his mother’s book. He ran bare fingers over her writing. Demanitus Device, her notes read. What device? Any? Hidden, or to be created? Essential parts. Black. Red. Yellow. White.

Varian frowned and closed the journal. The symbols on the cover were in the aforementioned four colors. He checked the compass. It still pointed east.

Head swimming, he blew out the candles and went to sleep.

Early the next morning, Varian opted for simple traveling clothes. He donned a light teal shirt, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. Having grown since living with his father, an old pair of gray trousers were too short. He paired them with tall boots, tucking the pant legs in. A belt belonging to his father, bearing the Dark Kingdom symbol, was so large he had to loop it twice around his middle. He traded his normal gloves for a more streamlined set, easier for grasping. An alchemy belt, holding the orbs he’d made the previous night, hung crosswise over his shirt like a bandolier. He tucked two chemlights into an armband. For the third, he wrapped a cord around the flare of glass at the top and tied it like a pendant so that the chemlight fell down his shirt. Lastly, he knotted an orange kerchief around neck.

He added the three books to the backpack and hoisted it onto his shoulders. Leaving the house, he took one last glance at Old Corona. “Okay,” he muttered, nerves fluttering in his gut. “You said okay, so it’s gonna be okay.”

Above, a tree branch creaked, twigs rustled, and Ruddiger scurried down the trunk.

“Bud!” Varian explained. “I thought you stayed in the castle. Go home.”

Ruddiger looked back at their former house.

“No, not this home,” said Varian. “Go back to Dad.” Having his ravenous raccoon along would make quick work of provisions.

Ruddiger hunkered down, clearly unhappy, then scampered into the brush.

Adjusting the pack, Varian started on his way. Corona was centrally located, other kingdoms fanning out from it. Any direction led you someplace else, and the compass obviously indicated where to begin.

It was an easy road through the kingdom, many landmarks a memory of adventure. Mind preoccupied, seclusion didn’t bother Varian. During the day, he followed the silent compass. He stopped early to use evenings to pour over the two books, condensing the info into his own notebook. The weather was mild enough for him to camp in the open, a cheery fire serving as his companion.

His mother didn’t write clearly. Most of her notes were questions, often answered pages later, if at all. Ulla charted stream of thought, one-word exclamations and speculation like a woman possessed. Varian formed the impression she was too excited to sit and organize her notions into the barest of concise reports. The loose pages, likely Donella’s, did better at that. She penned complete, verbose sentences in a corresponding vein to what Ulla talked about, and he found comparing the two versions immensely helpful.

Demanitus wrote nothing until after completion. He’d written of the Seven Stages of Alchemy, which Varian glossed over years ago, already knowing them. Now, he combed the pages under different contexts. Pieced together with Demanitus’ documentation, Varian could figure out a rough sense of what the three were onto. His own notebook became a sort of master guide, pulling from all three perspectives.

Some of Ulla’s notes read, First Stage – Calcination. First Trial – Heating. Fire. Fire Kingdom? Bayangor?? Where? Folklore? Demanitus was more precise – the Fire Trial was meant to include forging. But forging… what? At least the compass seemed correct, as Bayangor was the eastmost kingdom.

Varian found himself disappointed that, based on her notetaking, his mother seemed like more of a mad scientist than a disciplined practitioner. She got carried away easily, reckless in her pursuits, while Donella was the level-headed one.

Varian ceased writing in his notebook, quill poised in the air. He got carried away, and recklessness wasn’t outside his spectrum.

The back of his mind contained a niggling concern that, although heavy notes existed for the first five Trials, his mother and Donella had only theories and rough info about the sixth and seventh. Varian put the thought aside. He couldn’t worry about that now when he hadn’t even encountered the first.

Days slid into weeks, and he left the land he knew behind. The region turned lush, with tight trees and overgrown shrubbery. The cobblestone road became a winding dirt path, worn down in some sections where he had to wander around a while to find the next section. This had the makings of becoming a long, lonely trip. He checked compass more than necessary, hoping for another vision, and being let down. The direction of the needle never diverged from east, and he began to wonder if it was broken. Running low on provisions, he had no idea how long it could be before he found a town or roadside inn.

One night, harsh, stinging rain forced Varian to break out the tent. The ground saturated, he couldn’t start a fire. He huddled in the tent, worried about the books in his pack being affected by moisture. As it was, the Demanitus Tome barely held up due to the ravages of time on parchment. With nothing to do but wait in the dark, paranoia and a frenzied feeling of doubt sneaked in. Had he been foolish to do this alone, to not heed the offers of his friends and father? He’d rushed out without a concrete plan, pursuing the ghost of his mother wherever she was leading him.

A flash of lightning lit the surrounding forest, and Varian swore he saw the outline of a human figure outside the tent. Leaving his meager shelter, he plucked an orb from his alchemy belt. Soaked though in seconds, he pulled the chemlight out of his shirt collar, shook it to life and it guide him. Because of the rain, the leaves and branches of the tight-knit forest all shook and wobbled, making it impossible to tell what was natural or a shrouded threat.

Droplets running down his face, hair plastered to his forehead, Varian swung around and around, whipping the light in different directions, chasing the creeping sensation that he was being watched. A clump of bushes rustled independently, as if something were inside. He raised the orb over his head.

Ruddiger burst through the undergrowth and shook himself, sending beads of rain flying. “Buddy! No! You were supposed to stay home!” Varian crouched, replaced the orb, and let Ruddiger run into his arms. The raccoon’s fur was damp, but his undercoat put him in better shape than Varian, whose clothes clung to him like wet rags. Sitting in the rain, he curled around Ruddiger and started to cry, cursing himself for undertaking this mission. He was lonesome, nearly lost on his path, and outside his depth of knowledge. Hopelessness played along his psyche, urging him to go home and resume his normal life.

He carried Ruddiger inside the tent and fell into a restless sleep while the storm raged outside, thrashing the patched fabric at night long. He awoke feeling stiff and tired, sensations that only intensified over the next few days. Pressure formed in his chest, leading to a cough and an alarming rattle in his lungs. His temperature spiked, but he had little choice other than to press on.

Increased thirst meant an ongoing battle. The trail didn’t follow a stream, and Varian often sent Ruddiger off with the canteen to scour the woodland for pools leftover from the rainstorm. He stopped writing and reading altogether, following the compass with wobbling steps. The road led up a mountain, making each step slower and more difficult.

One day near dusk, Varian sank to one side of the path, letting the heavy pack slip from his shoulders, and settled against a tree trunk. Dizzy and damp with sweat, he confessed to Ruddiger, “I’m not doing too great, buddy. I think…” His teeth were chattering. “I think you gotta go get help.” Ruddiger looked out into the forest and hunkered before scampering in a circle and coming back. “I know.” He coughed. “I know we’re a long way from anywhere, but I need you. You’re faster than me and have better senses. I’ll be okay for a while. Go.”

Ruddiger pawed at his knee, then darted off. As the sun sank, Varian let his head fall back against the tree’s bark. Thank goodness for Ruddiger. It had been silly to leave him behind. Too exhausted to move, he checked the compass one more time. The hinges on the box creaked as he lifted the lid. Struggling for breath, he gazed at the gleaming brass needle, still pointing east.

“Oh, my baby. You’ve come so far.”

Varian raised his head. In the fading light, a woman kneeled in front of him, the hem of her dress pooling on the ground. Loose red hair flowed down her back and over her shoulders as she regarded him with bright blue eyes – his eyes – and a reassuring smile. His mother looked the way he’d recalled… or imagined, wearing simple Old Corona apparel under a white apron .

“Hey, Mom,” he rasped. “You came.” He’d worried the one time he saw her in Demanitus’ chamber would be the last. He reached for her, moving to touch her face. Ulla rose, and his fingers fell short. His hand hit the ground like lead.

She leaned forward, gloved hands on her knees, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “We’re almost there!” Her skirts whirled as she spun, revealing hearty countryside boots. She ran up the path, looking over her shoulder. “Come on!”

At her urging, Varian gathered what strength he had and stood. He donned the backpack once more and followed her into the growing night. The road quickly turned steep, causing him to struggle and stumble his way up, fighting to gasp full breaths. “Mom! Wait!”

Her form was barely visible up ahead. “You’re so close! Hurry!”

Light-headed, Varian kept going, his mother’s presence pulling him onwards.

By the time she slowed, only the faintest of starlight lit the mountain trail. At the path’s crest, Ulla faced him, long hair swinging, a swath of night sky behind her. Under the light, she looked slightly luminescent. “You did it. I knew you could.”  

The sounds of pops, pews, and whistles built from afar. Fireworks burst to life over Ulla’s shoulders, filling the night with pinwheels and starbursts in every shade.

Feeling an odd sense of separation from his body, Varian joined her at the ridge, heart pounding hard enough to hurt. The image of a ferocious green dragon filled the expanse of sky, its curved mouth open in a grin. It was static, but huge. Wheezing, Varian’s jaw dropped. The dragon came apart with a crack, shattering into pinpoints of light that trickled into nothingness.

Down the mountain’s slope, a village sat in the distance, all lit up.

He’d made it to Bayangor.

Winded and overwhelmed, Varian collapsed in the road.  

Chapter Text

Varian’s own coughing woke him.

Blinking dry eyes open, he found himself indoors, lying on a cot close to the floor. Plush drapes with ornate imagery separated his nook from the rest of a larger building. Ruddiger, curled in the crook of his arm, popped his head up and chittered.

The curtain rustled, then drew aside. “Ah, you’re awake,” said a portly man with dark hair and a thin, trailing beard. He tied the curtain back with tassels. “You’ve had a high fever for two days.”

“Two days?” Varian croaked and fought to stand. A wave of dizziness forced him back down. He compromised by resting on elbows.

“Don’t bother the boy,” the scratchy voice of an old man sounded from the room beyond, accompanied by the grind-scrape sound of a mortar and pestle at work. Strange smells wafted over. Varian peered around the curtain to see thin smoke trails of incense stroke towards the low ceiling like spindly fingers. Jars of herbs, whole and crushed, lined the wall in his field of vision. “What is this place?”

The man with the beard pressed the back of a hand against Varian’s forehead before checking the nodes under his jaw. “I’m the village physician. My father,” – he gestured with his chin to the next room – “a herbologist. This is our clinic.” He stepped back. “Seems you’re on the mend now, though still susceptible.”

The old man came forward. He sported a bald pate and a long white beard. A cup of steaming, aromatic tea on a saucer sat in his hands, which he handed to Varian. “Seems you had fortune on your side that someone chose to walk the highway in the middle of the festival. A wonder that anyone was on the same road as you past dark.”

Varian cradled the tea carefully. “The festival?”

“The annual firework festival,” said the physician. “A man brought you in while the event was winding down. He carried a red light, though not like any light I’ve ever seen.”

Varian sipped the tea. It tasted bitter, pungent, and vaguely sweet. Not awful, but by no means good. He made a pact with himself to learn pharmaceuticals better, especially if he was going to take trips on his own. “Thank you. Both of you.” He raised the teacup. “What’s in this?”

“Honeysuckle and forsythia,” said the old man, giving Ruddiger a persimmon.

“We have other patients to tend to,” said the physician. “When you’re up to it, you’re welcome to the rest of the clinic. But take it easy,” he warned.

“Yessir,” said Varian. He drained the tea and handed the cup and saucer back to the old man. They departed, and he was alone with Ruddiger once more. Still tired, his warm bedding called to him. He snuggled into the sheets and closed his eyes.

A heartbeat later, he sprang up. Where was his alchemy gear? Where was his pack holding all three books? Feeling over his chest, the chemlight’s tube was evident under his shirt; one item he still had.

He slid out of his sickbed, nearly climbing the curtain to get upright. A closer-than-normal proximity to the floor almost made him stumble. His boots were also gone, leaving him in stockings. Varian saw a row of isolated sections just like his lining the wall, the two men moving their way down the chain. With Ruddiger on his shoulder, feeling far heavier in Varian’s ill state, he wandered through the household, keeping a hand on the wall to steady himself.

The clinic was part of a spartan home. Cheery daylight spilled through open windows. A round dining table with five chairs sat beside a coal stove. Paper lanterns in green with gold trim hung from the ceiling. Several pieces of artwork bore delicate strokes of paint. In an adjacent room, a woman scrubbed laundry with two girls, one slightly older than Varian, one slightly younger. In a wide communal space, Varian found his oversized pack on its side, contents strewn about. A stocky little boy lay on his belly, feet kicking back and forth lazily in the air, flipping through Demanitus’ notes like a kid reading a picture book, which must be what it looked like to someone unfamiliar with the art of science.

Defensive of their belongings, Ruddiger bristled and chattered in an aggressive tone. The kid looked up and wrinkled his pug nose. “Wow! That’s a big rat.”

“He’s not a rat,” said Varian. “He’s a raccoon.”

“Rac-coon. Got it.” The boy’s black eyes roamed over both of them. “Your hair looks really nifty.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Varian pawed self-consciously at the streak in his bangs. The kid was looking at the page about Demanitus’ cannon of fire. “Say, do you know where the rest of my stuff is?”

“Probably in a cubby by the front door.” The kid looked back down at the page, cradling chubby cheeks with his fists, and squinted in concentration.

“Thanks.” Fatigued, Varian shrugged Ruddiger down from his shoulder and scanned for the door. “That’s a cannon that shoots flames, in case you’re wondering.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a cannon. It’s more of a mortar.”

Varian turned back. This village kid knew about combustible munitions? “How do you mean?”

The kid sat up on his knees. He wore a long red tunic and trousers. Using his hands to demonstrate angles, he said, “A cannon fires along a flat plane. Mortars launch on a steep trajectory. Plus, a cannon ball just hits one thing. Whatever you put in a mortar spreads out, affecting a larger area on impact.”

Impressed, Varian gave a tired smile. “Huh. What’s your name?”

The kid hopped to his feet and jabbed a thumb at his chest. “I’m Yong, and I’m ten. My dad and Ye Ye handle all the sick people. My mom and sisters handle the clinic itself.”

“What do you handle?”

Yong’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Oh… I’m not allowed to… touch a lot of things.” He raised his eyes, and they sparkled with zeal. “But I watch! I learn a whole bunch just by watching!”

“I’m Varian, and that’s Ruddiger,” he motioned to the raccoon, who was rooting through a woven bag of radishes. A spike of pain flared between his eyes. Varian winced and ground the heel of his palm into his browbone. The room seemed to wobble a little, or maybe that was just his perception.

“Hang on,” said Yong. “I’ll be right back.” When he returned, he handed Varian what looked like candied coins. “It’s dried ginger. You eat it. It’ll help your head, especially if you’re dizzy.”

Varian chewed a slice, as instructed. The flavor was a sharp spice, but not hot. “Seems like you really do learn by watching.”

Yong scuffed a toe along the floor. “Yeah…” he mumbled.

Giving in to his ailment, Varian sank to the ground, where Yong joined him. The boy slid the Tome over to where they were. “How did –” Varian paused to cough into his elbow. “How did you know about the mortar?”

His attention on the book, Yong said, “The rest of the village is usually involved in pyrotechnics. The Firework Festival – the one from a couple’a days ago – is sort of an arts show. People showing off what they can do. The super impressive ones get paid to do important displays for year-round stuff, celebrations and the like.” He nodded at the row of beds Varian wandered from. “Most of the other patients have burns from the festival. But I’m super-duper careful!” he insisted. “You gotta respect the flame and the powders, pay attention, and calculate the right angles.”

Ruddiger dove into Varian’s lap, having found a tuber to gnaw on. As Varian stroked him, he said, “You sure know a lot about explosives for someone whose whole family is involved in medicine.”

Yong shrugged. “I said I learn a lot by watching.”

“Huh. That’s right, you did.” Already, Varian’s head felt better, and the room definitely stopped swaying.

Yong glanced back at the Tome. “I read, too. Much as I can. But my village mostly focuses on practical application – s’why there're folks with burns – instead of writing stuff down.” He tapped the page. “I like this book. It’s got a lot of instructions in it.” Frowning, he drew Ulla’s almanac closer. “This one’s written funny, and hard to make out.”

Varian sighed, recalling his mother’s perplexing method of writing. “Yeah. It kinda is.” His hand slipped into a pocket and drew out the compass to check it. The needle now faced northwest. “What’s northwest of here?” he asked.

“Umm, the Temple of the Ancients? It’s super old. Used to have a bunch of priests, but now it’s crumbly and empty, ‘cept when there’s an important holiday.”

“Lemme guess – it’s stood for over two thousand years?” That’s when Demanitus last walked the kingdoms.

“Oh, pff.” Yong waved a hand in the air. “Waaay longer than that.”

Nodding, Varian put the compass away. The Temple seemed a likely location of the first Trial. He gave another, much longer sigh, and let his head fall forward. He was still overly warm.

“Here,” said Yong. He got to his feet and tugged Varian up. “You should go back to bed. I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“Thanks, Yong. And, uh, mind if I have my books back?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Sure.”

That night, after a nap and a hot, filling meal, Varian lay in his hospice alcove with all three books before him. The paper lantern above, coupled with his chemlight, gave the small area an otherworldly green glow. “Calcination,” he muttered, reviewing the Fire Trial notes. “Heat. Forging.”

Ulla and Donella already did the Trials. At least the first five. Since Donella already knew where they were and how to complete them, why leave him on his own? Was that an essential part of the journey – learning how? Feeling adrift? From what he’d learned about Lord Demanitus as a person, yes. The man liked riddles and the spirit of collaboration. Unlocking his meanings weren’t for the simpleminded.

Varian hummed in thought, doubling back. His mother and Donella had done the Trials together. Demanitus was nearly always portrayed as having acolytes. If the Trials were meant to be completed by more than one person, Varian was in a spot of trouble. He glanced at Ruddiger burrowing into the blanket’s edge by his feet. “You and me, buddy.” The raccoon trilled and curled into a tight ball of fur for the night.

He blew out the lantern and tucked his chemlight away. In the silence of the clinic at night, Varian reflected on seeing his mom on the road to Bayangor. Had his fevered vision held any truth? Was she guiding him?

He fell asleep holding the compass.

Chapter Text

After two days in the clinic, Varian grew restless. His dizzy spells lessened, but fatigue and a rattle in his lungs refused to let go. Though his body and chest suffered, his mind was clear, and the narrow compartment of his clinic cot grew claustrophobic. During daylight hours, he’d sit in the communal room with Yong, browsing the books Varian had brought, compass close by in his pocket.

“So, it’s like a bunch of tests, one after the other?” Yong asked, running a hand over the embossed cover of Ulla’s journal. Ruddiger stuck to the boy’s side, probably because Yong kept sneaking him pastries.

Varian nodded, sipping peppermint tea. “A series of Trials to collect something, or prove something, to progress further along the path to mastery.”

“Mastery of what?”

“Maybe the Library itself, maybe unlocking… I dunno, Librarian abilities.” Yong giggled, and Varian cracked a muted smile. “Yeah, that sounds stupid, but the point is control over something called Prima Materia, the first matter.”

Yong looked studious. “Like… quarks?”

Varian peered over the rim of his cup, impressed that Yong knew about quarks, primordial dark matter that made up everything. They could even create atomic fission, the force of a star exploding, supplying limitless energy. “Yeah… could be.” Harnessing that could power anything. A whole kingdom. Ten whole kingdoms, if not the entire planet. “You do know a lot.”

Yong rolled onto his back, lacing hands across his chest. “Said I did. Boy,” he mused. “A whole Library full of science books. Wow. I wanna see that.”

After a cough, Varian set his cup down, staring into the scattered tea leaves. “Yeah. Me, too.” The Library, sure, but unlocking the mystery of his mother held greater allure. “I should start to plan on going. Refill my travel supplies – food, basics. Ruddiger used up a lot.”

Ruddiger’s ears lowered in defense. He trilled angrily at Varian and scooted closer to Yong, who placed a teacake in the raccoon’s tiny paws. “We could go to the village, if you want. With the festival over, people will be cleaning up, and –” His eyes brightened, and he sat up. “And folks will be using up the little sparklers and pop rockets they didn’t put in displays!” He got to his feet. “Yeah, let’s go!”

“I’m not sure your family would like that.” He hadn’t seen Yong leave the property since arriving.

Yong’s mouth pulled down in a frown. “I’m not a little kid.”

“Of course you’re not,” Varian said, the words in a spill. “It’s just that –”

“Do you speak Bayangese?”

“I… no. Wait. Your family speaks Universal.”

Yong lifted a shoulder. “Well, duh. This is the clinic off the main highway. All kinds of travelers come through here.”

“But your village doesn’t?” Another cough shook his chest.

“Nope.” Yong gave a haughty grin. “Seems like you need a guide, then.”

Varian hesitated. It seemed like he was Yong’s excuse to visit the village. He understood the urge. He’d only visited the island of Corona twice before meeting Rapunzel, and both times he’d been very young. The capital came across as huge and exotic compared to dusty Old Corona. “How about we ask first?”

Yong’s shoulders fell in a dramatic slump. “Mama!” he yelled, tearing out of the room. A terse discussion took place in the kitchen.

Ruddiger cocked his head, giving Varian a dirty look. “Hey, I know I’m sick and that he’s young. But what else was I supposed to say?” he asked the raccoon. “Eventually, he was going to go with or without me. If I’d left without permission when I was ten, my dad would have chained me to the pumpkin patch like a scarecrow.”

Yong’s mother stepped into the communal room, drying her hands on her apron. Yong was nearly hopping up and down with excitement. “So, you want to go buy supplies? Be mindful that you’re still recovering. Take it slow. Yong will watch you, and in return, you watch him. It will be dark soon.”

“Of course,” Varian said, standing. “Thank you, ma’am.” Yong borrowed a simple sack, Varian retrieved his coin purse, and they went to the front door. Ruddiger joined them. “Sorry, bud,” Varian told him. “But who knows what they to do rats out here. Watch the pack, okay?” Ruddiger blew a raspberry and haughtily waddled to Varian’s cot.

Bayangor appeared to be a quaint and simple kingdom. Closely built structures with sloping roofs lined narrow, stone streets. People lit more of the same paper lanterns as night fell. To Varian’s surprise, the village didn’t have a market. Households sold items from their front windows or tables set up outside. Varian had to tell Yong what he was looking for so the boy could lead them in the right direction.

Remnants of festival events were evident by clusters of villagers, mostly youths, chatting animatedly and setting off small fireworks that whirled along the streets. The sky stayed empty, as all the large displays had been part of the main celebration. “Wish you coulda seen the exhibits,” Yong said in a wistful tone. “They were pretty awesome.”

“I saw the green dragon,” said Varian, recalling the shocking image. At the time, he thought he’d been imagining it.

“Oh, yeah. That was one of the best!”

Yong got into a conversation with another family as Varian counted coins and handed them to a baker. Yong’s bag was filling with bread, cured meats, and sturdy produce. Road food. “Huh,” Yong muttered as the family moved on.

“What is it?” Varian asked. The warning tickle of an oncoming cough traveled up his throat. He swallowed hard to stifle it.

Yong scratched his head. “That family, they have a farm out in the fields. Said they saw something yesterday. Um, it’s hard to translate. Kinda like... ‘sky boat’.”

“Boat?”

“Yeah.”

Varian frowned, thinking.

Sky boat.

Air boat.

Air ship.

“Air ship!” Saporians used air ships to travel. Since they had no homeland, the vessels provided refuge as they slunk from one kingdom to another. “Where? Where did they see it?”

The baker tapped Varian on the arm. He’d either overpaid or underpaid, but since he didn’t speak the language, he didn’t know.

“Hang on. I’ll go ask.” Yong took off in the direction the family went.

“Yong, wait!” He shoved additional coinage at the baker, erring on the side of surplus, and ran down the street. His late chase meant Yong had already disappeared. The streets were filling as night grew deeper, more and more of the little fireworks going off in alleys and gardens. “Yong!” Varian called, dread building.

Saporians. He didn’t know if word of his treason against New Saporia ended with Andrew’s group in prison or had spread throughout remaining survivors of the fallen nation. Regardless, Saporians didn’t travel in peace. Everything in Bayangor was so foreign. Half the people in the village could be Saporians in disguise and he’d never know it.

The evening vibrated with sparklers and distant cracks, giving Varian jitters as he ran through the strange village. He didn’t know the language or the way back to the clinic. Swirls and starbursts of color popped all around. “Yong!” He stopped and braced hands on his knees, hyperventilating, weakened lungs at their limit.

“Varian,” someone said, clear as day.

He lifted his head, looking around for the speaker. “H-hello?” Busy with their own lives, no one made eye contact. Shadows grew and shrank each time a sparkler went off. His skin prickled as if he were being watched.

“Varian,” his name repeated. A woman’s voice.

“Mom?” he whispered, eyes darting to darkened lanes and empty houses.

The voice crashed against his eardrums, his name looping in patterned repetition, overlapping, becoming a symphony of syllables. There was no singular source – the voice came from everywhere, all at once. Varian put hands over his ears and backed into a corner. “What’s happening?” he whimpered.

“Varian?” Someone touched him.

He gasped and nearly left his skin. Yong held out a pair of doughy rolls. “I couldn’t find the people from the farm, but I got us some buns. Hey, are you okay?”

Varian’s fever had to be back, causing auditory hallucinations. “I don’t think I am. Can I go back to the clinic now?”

Yong tucked the buns into the grocery bag. “Sure,” he said, and guided them home.

During the entire walk, Varian kept looking over his shoulder.

Chapter Text

By the next morning, Varian had almost recovered. A hitch during deep breaths was the only lingering symptom. After breakfast, Yong watched him strap on the armband and alchemy belt as his father and grandfather attended to other patients. “Ya know,” Yong mentioned. “I could go with you. That pack’s pretty heavy and you were just sick.”

Echoing his statement from Corona, Varian insisted, “I have to do this alone.”

“Oh. Why?”

Varian faltered in front of someone that wasn’t aware of his past. “Because… I, well… because…”

Because I don’t want anyone to see me plunge into that Darkness.

The thought made Varian flinch. “It’s a family thing,” he finally said.

Yong narrowed one eye but backed down. “Alright. I guess I understand.”

At the door, Varian waved goodbye and, with Ruddiger padding beside him, made his way northwest. A field of reedy grass taller than Varian awaited him. He walked with the compass out until the grass abruptly ended, dumping him onto a roadway. An angular arch stood in his path, the etching at the top faded, rubbed down over time. Past it, a long set up stairs led up a hill to a stone structure. Varian adjusted his pack and stepped onto the road.

The tall grass behind Varian rustled. Cautiously, he turned. Deep in the field, the grass swayed. Ruddiger picked up a paw and stared intently, ears pricked. Something was out there, following. Convinced he saw someone outside his tent the night of the storm, Varian wrapped a hand around the destructive orb, Last Resort. His body shifted. He’d been in enough battles to hold his own.

Ruddiger darted forward into the grass. Varian called after him. Someone in the grass yelled, and the reeds waved violently. The grass parted and a small person tumbled out. Ruddiger crawled all over Yong’s round body before snatching a pastry from his pocket. “Aww,” the boy whined. “That was mine…”

“Yong!” Varian moved his hand away from the acidic green ball and rushed to help him up. “What are you doing here?”

Besides his standard tunic and trousers, Yong had a slingshot dangling from a back pocket, a thigh holster full of minute firecrackers, and a medicine pouch dangling from his belt. “I wanna help. Your books are totally awesome, and you must be super smart to know what they mean. I learn fast! Honest!” He pointed up the stairs. “And I’ve been in the Temple before! I won’t get in the way, I promise!”

Varian squeezed his fists, blinking fast as he weighed his options. Ruddiger could prove a poor partner should the Trial get complicated. Fears and concern aside, he concluded he needed help. “Do you… wanna come with me?”

“Yes!” Yong screeched, piercing Varian’s ears. “I mean, um, that’d be really cool.”

“It might be dangerous. In fact, it probably will be.”

Eyes shining, Yong held up his palms. “I will do anything you tell me to. I can… I can run. I can get help if I’ve gotta. I can –” He whipped out one of the fireworks. “I can go ka-blam and blow something up. I can hold on to your rat –”

“Raccoon.”

“Your raccoon if he’s too small to do something.” He tucked the firework away. “You’ll see. This is literally the best choice you’ll ever make.”

“Okay,” Varian said, more to himself than to Yong. “Let’s, um… yeah, let’s do this.”

Yong whooped and charged up the stairs leading to the temple, heedless of the danger Varian mentioned. Ruddiger bounded after him. “Whoa, slow down!” Varian shouted. By the time all three scaled the stairs to the temple, Varian and Ruddiger were puffing and spent. At the peak, the raccoon flopped onto his belly and stretched out.

Yong though, maintained a stream of unbroken chatter. “The festival fireworks are cool, but they’re just one image. The little ones move super fast and have tons of variety. You’ve got sparklers, flash bombs, whizzers that go shooooooooo along the ground.” In emphasis, Yong spread his arms, bent over, and rushed through the open temple doors. A slingshot poked out the back of his trousers. He stopped within the square of daylight thrown through the doorway and shrugged. “I dunno. I just like ‘em.”

“Do you,” Varian panted, stepping inside the temple. It was much cooler inside. “Do you work on anything for the festival? Your family is all in medicine.”

Yong’s full cheeks reddened, and he sidestepped out of direct light. One hand fell to the row of crackers strapped to his thigh, the other to the medicine pouch. “I try. Every year, I ask everybody at the festival if I can help. They say, yes – least in the beginning – because I’m the clinic kid and how to treat a bunch of small wounds.” He pulled the medicine pouch open and lifted a few folded packets of paper. “I’ve got stuff for scrapes, heat and chemical burns, a needle and sinew for gashes – although that’s real gross –”

“How do you tell the contents apart?” All the packets looked alike.

“Each one is folded a little different.” Yong held them closer. “See?”

Varian shook his head. He didn’t discern any variation.

Yong returned the packets and walked deeper into the structure. “What are we looking for?”

Though the hill had been steep, the Temple of the Ancients wasn’t very large. The interior housed many columns carved with pictographs. Gently draped fabric broke up the linear feel and added a rich depth to the building. A recessed offering wall stood at the back, organic gifts withered with age. Above it, a wide plaque hung with tightly printed writing. It looked like a mishmash of letters, too jampacked to read. One side housed a bust on a pedestal, likely of a prolific priest or deity.

Varian consulted the accumulated notes in his own journal. “Heat. Fire. Does this place have a forge?”

“No way.”

“You sure?”

“Totally.” Yong followed a wandering Varian, watching him run hands along walls and tap the toe of his boot at breaks in the stone floor. “So, anyway… what if fireworks weren’t just colorful and loud?”

“What else would they be?” Varian asked, searching for a sign, a periodic symbol, Demanitus’ crest, out-of-place markings, anything. He checked the compass and frowned. The needle rotated as he did, as if he were standing on top of whatever drew the compass.

“Helpful. And… well… important.”

Varian stopped and shifted his attention to Yong. Those were a strange choice of words. “Why important?”

Yong pulled a stubby firecracker from his holster and toyed with it, face downcast. “I always start to help with the festivals, but then I get asked to do other things. People hurt themselves. Mostly in little ways, but… I get told to focus on useful stuff, like practicing medicine, helping the village, being responsible. And, suddenly, there’s no more time for fun or learning. Just doin’ things that make my family proud. Even if I don’t always wanna.”

A stretch of silence yawned. Varian knew all too well about mismanaging the balance over getting what he wanted without letting others down. “Well… what do you find fun, Yong?”

Yong’s entire demeanor changed. His face lit up, and he stood with his chest out. “Making things! I know a bunch about plants and minerals from my family, plus a whole lot about powders and explosives from the festival! Like, this looks the same as a normal firecracker, right?” he said, waved his cracker in the air.

“I guess?” Varian wasn’t an explosive expert. The things around him that burst were usually unintentional.

“See for yourself.” Yong slid a long match from a fold in his holster and struck it against the stone wall.

Varian threw his hands out in alarm. “Yong! Wait! Not in –”

Flame touched fuse. Thick, dark smoke belched from the cracker in Yong’s hand. After a moment, the smoke turned bright yellow. “It’s pretty much lead and salt,” Yong explained, the smoke bomb in one hand, the burning match in the other. “That’s what makes it yellow. If you wanted, say, a red, there are a bunch of plants and even insects that could –” The match burned down to his fingers. “Ow!” he yelped, flinging the smoldering match away.

The match flew over ahead and rapped against the plaque over the offering wall. Where the hot match touched the tight crush of lettering, the words The Way glowed deep red before fading.

Varian rushed to the wall. “Yong, I need another match!” Yong came over and, standing on his toes, scanned a lit match close to the lettering. Proximity to the sustained heat source caused many of the close-knit words to glow. From where Varian stood a few steps back, transcribing in his notebook, the inscribed riddle was visible.

Journey Down to Leave the Day

Let Inner Fire Light the Way

Keep Pride and Ego at Bay

To Keep on Task Without Delay

“Journey down?” Varian mumbled. He glanced around the small temple as he put his notebook away.

Yong faced him and cocked his head. The flame at the tip of the match flickered, wiggling as if jostled by air flow. As he went to blow it out, Varian seized the match from his hand. He held it closer to the offering wall. The flame bent and extinguished.

“There’s something beyond this wall.” Varian patted the stonework, searching for a latch or a seam. Yong came over to help.

Ruddiger, recovered from his trek up the stairs, hopped onto the raised bust, leaning over to inspect spoiled fruit offerings. He recoiled in disgust and nearly slipped off the sculpture, clinging to it. Instead of toppling from the pedestal, the bust canted to one side. A moment after, a section of wall sank back and slid out of the way, revealing a black path leading deeper into the temple.

“Ruddiger!” Varian exclaimed, retrieving him. “Good job.” Setting the raccoon on the floor placed Varian parallel to the tilted bust. A metal faceplate covered part of the sculpture’s face. Varian’s stomach did a flip. “That’s Lord Demanitus,” he whispered.

“Is it?” Yong leaned hard to one side, trying to align his field of view with the bust’s list. “I always thought it was some old warrior who got his eye poked out.”

Varian glanced at the dark corridor and pulled his chemlight out from under his shirt. He shook it, igniting green light, and let it dangle over his chest. “Okay, well. Let’s do this, then.” He gripped the straps of his backpack and stalked through the opening in the wall. All he saw inside was blackness.

“I’m coming with you,” Yong announced, and squeezed around Varian’s pack to join him in the corridor.

The floor jolted under their combined weight before giving out entirely. They both let out a yell as they dropped. Rather than straight down, they slid along something solid at an angle, as if they were in a chute. Their descent seemed to last for minutes before the spillway angled horizontally and dumped them onto flat ground.

The light around Varian’s neck swung back and forth. Wherever they were, there was no other illumination. Abject blackness stretched in all directions. Deep in the darkness, a woman’s voice called, far away and weak. “Varian,” it whispered. “Further in.”

“Mom…” A wild streak inside of Varian urged him to run straight into the murk and call back to her. A rushing sound filled his ears. His body shifted forward, and he lifted a foot.

“V-Varian?” Yong whimpered, finding his arm, and clinging to it.

Varian focused on Yong, chastising himself for nearly running off into the dark. “Yeah. Okay. Hang on.” He plucked one of the chemlight vials from his armband and shook it, handing it to Yong. The boy clutched it greedily. His eyes bulged with fright. They saw nothing beyond the throw of artificial light.

Pulling the second and final chemlight from the armband, Varian shook it, knelt, and sent it rolling fast along the ground. Polished stone gleamed beneath it as it spun, reflecting the green chemlight like a mirrored surface. The chemlight lost speed and stopped a dozen meters away.

“Well, at least there’s not a pit.” Varian held his light aloft, trying to decipher their surroundings. The ground was too even to be natural and honed to a sheen. This cavern had to be fabricated, excavated by the Temple of the Ancient’s priests, or Demanitus’ followers, or both. Being manmade, that explained why the temple sat on a high hill – they had hollowed the interior. “Okay, I’d say that was the Journey Down part of the riddle.” Varian rolls his shoulders, shifting the backpack. “Now… Inner Fire…”

With Yong clamped onto his arm, Varian began a slow traverse across the dark cavern. Reflections of their chemlights bounced along the ground as they crossed the vast substructure.

A whoosh and thump sounded behind them. Varian whipped around. A faint red glow disappeared.  “Ruddiger?”

No answer.

“Hey, Varian?” said Yong. He’d crouched over the third chemlight. “The floor’s hot.”

“What do you mean?” Varian took a knee and lowered his arm, holding it inches from the ground. Vague warmth seeped into the sliver of skin exposed between his shirt and glove. He stood, worry creeping in. “Yong… are there mountains around that used to be volcanic?”

“I mean, I guess. A jillion years ago or something.”

Varian gulped and held his light up, scanning for any dissimilarity of space in the surrounding darkness. “Okay, well… I’ve got good news and concerning news, then.”

“Um… alright.”

“Good news, I think I figured out where the Inner Fire is. It’s actually a series of lava tubes running through the ground. But that’s also the concerning news.”

“What’s a lava tube?”

Varian lowered his light to look at Yong. “Lava tubes, or, ya’know, pyroducts, are volcanic vents forming natural conduits for lava channels. This site was obviously selected and excavated around the existence of those tubes.”

The boy inflated like a balloon, chest puffing, eyes lighting up, mouth pulling into a toothy grin. “That sounds so cool!”

“I mean, yeah. It actually really is.” Gazing into the dark wasn’t cutting it. Motivated by the offering plaque, he said, “Yong, do any of your crackers do the, well, the swirly whirl thing?” Varian spun a finger in a circle.

“Oh! Yeah!” Yong picked through his cache and offered a medium-sized firecracker. “This one.”

“Awesome. Can you send it across the floor? There might be more hidden instructions.”

“Sure thing.” Yong lit the cracker, and it went reeling along the ground, spinning in a wider and wider arc before extinguishing.

A few lines in the very center glowed to life, the letters appearing red-hot against the black backdrop. “There! There!” Varian said, pointing. They hurried over. Yong lit another match and waved it over the dimming words to brighten them.

What Flows Below

You Craft Above

“Below,” Varian mumbled. “Well, there’s lava below. Above…” Raising his chemlight, he lifted his head and looked straight up. He ducked in surprise. “Oh, jeez!” 

A platform hung above the focus of the vast cavern. It fell low enough that anyone taller than Varian would have knocked straight into it. Though composed of stone, it was a different kind than the reflective surface below, flat black, absorbing light rather than bouncing it back. Varian had been so engrossed with there being a shift in terrain than he hadn’t bothered to glance upwards.

Varian puffed a cheek in thought. He slipped out of the backpack. “Yong, can you give me a boost up there?” After some teetering tumbles, they succeeded in hoisting Varian to the second level. He let the chemlight dangle on its lanyard over his shirt. Looking around, he put hands on his hips.

The platform was oblong, three by four meters, suspended by lengths of twisted cord to wherever the ceiling was. Four sections of thin, spiky piping clustered around the edges like folded spider legs. A charcoal forge made of iron sat in the middle, its firepot large and empty. A duct entered the firepot at the bottom, connecting with the spider-pipes. To one side, a hand crank turned a circular fan for air flow. A three-foot lever stood enticingly close. “Huh. Looks like Xavier’s smithy. But, like, high tech.”

“A smithy?” repeated Yong. “Oh. I guess this place does have a forge, then. My bad.”

Varian extended a hand to the lever, wavered, then yanked it down. The four spider-pipes unfurled, reaching over the sides of the platform, edges hammering the ground below. The entire platform shook as the pipes began to vibrate. Abruptly, the chamber became very loud. “Yong?” Varian called. “Are you okay down there?”

“Definitely!” Yong sounded delighted. “These pipes are burrowing through the floor!”

“Through it?” Varian squeaked, picturing the pressure flowing lava could put on the pipes. He gaped at the forge. “Dealing with literal molten magma wasn’t really what I had in mind.”

“Do you know what to do?”

“I… of course, I do.” When Varian had run the hot water pipers behind Xavier’s shop, he’d been subjected to days of listening to Xavier talk about his craft, being pulled into the business whenever he lost the sun for the day or had to break. He knew… enough.

Pride and Ego, something whispered. His mother? Or Demanitus’ warning from the plaque?

Vibrations continued to shake the platform. Varian pressed a glove against the firepot. No heat. “Yong! There’s something wrong. The pressure’s not building.”

“One of the pipes can’t get through. It keeps drilling the same spot. Hang on. I’m gonna help it.”

“You’re gonna what?”

Bang.

The force from a modest explosion made the platform heave up and down.

“Got it!” Yong yelled. “I made a hole in the ground for the pipe to get through.”

Vibrations ceased, and the firepot filled with lava piped through iron. Varian kept his face down and away from the heat as he worked the hand crank, force-cooling the mixture. Magma through iron made something, but he didn’t have all his books and certainly couldn’t stop now to check even if he did.

“Um… Varian?” Yong called up. “I think I made the hole too big.”

If Varian stopped cranking the fan, the mixture would cool unevenly, potentially ruining the element. The bright red-orange mix started to darken at the sides. “Whatever it is, Yong, you’re going to have to deal with it.”

At the edge of the platform, where there was a junction in one of the pipes, the welding burst, and lava seeped onto the level in a slow trickle. Varian yelped and swung away from the fiery puddle. He changed position and kept cranking. An influx of lava was backing up in one of the pipes, liking to Yong giving the access port too deep a submersion. Over time, more and more seeped onto the platform, spreading.

“Varian? I’ve got your pack. I… well, there’s a lot of lava down here. I think I’m going to head out the door.”

“What? What door?” A slick of perspiration ran down Varian’s neck as he cranked. The mix faded to a sunset red.

“The one that opened when the pipes came down. Over there.” Footsteps ran along the ground.

Varian shook sweaty hair from his eyes and craned his head, following the sound of Yong’s small feet. Deep in the darkness, a rectangle of light sat in what had to be a wall. Yong’s body blocked the light as he lingered in the doorway. The ground below the platform seemed alarmingly orange in color. “Varian? Are you coming?”

The center of the mixture still glowed hot. “Almost there!” Varian assured. The platform mysteriously rocked, but he kept cranking.

Creeping lava touched one of the support cords. Flames licked up its weave. Varian cursed and checked on the mix. A fine point of red burned in the center, but the element had cooled and shrunk significantly. Time to go. He had gloves, it would be fine. He released the crank and reached for the element.

Something bodied into him, knocking him aside. He rolled to avoid the lava and came up in time to see a tall figure plunge their hands into the firepit. They juggled the lumpy element back and forth in gloved palms to cool it.

“Wait!” Varian yelled.

“Nope,” the figure said, and hopped off the platform.

The burning cord snapped, and the platform sharply tilted. The list sent lava flowing to the next support cord, setting it alight. Varian scrabbled to grab piping, gloved fingers slipping. The new angle gave him a very clear view of the bubbling lava pool beneath the platform. He had nowhere to go.

“Varian!” Yong’s panicked voice called.

The second cord failed.

Time distorted as the platform skewed further. A twang sounded, echoing in the vast chamber. A small, bright blue dot of light sailed across the platform, striking one of the intact support cords. It burst, but threads of blue light kept moving, touching the next cord in line, and the next, weaving a connective mesh. A crackling noise filled the air. Another twang, another ball of light, and the supports on the opposite side wove together, laced with blue light.

No. It wasn’t light. Varian pulled himself to standing by wrapping his arms around the giant lever. “It’s ice,” he breathed. This ice, emitting a glacial gleam, had the same properties as his amber solution. As he watched, it moved and extended, latching onto surfaces, growing thicker and stronger, holding the platform in place. It reached the lava clinging to the platform and extinguished it in a puff of steam.

More of those blue orbs came flying out of the darkness and landed in the lava pool below. As ice and lava interacted, a cloud of boiling, white steam billowed. Varian curled around the lever, hiding his face to avoid the scalding cloud.

Without Delay, the plaque had read. Varian had already stayed too long. He scooted to the edge of the platform and dangled off, dropping onto a sheet of solid ice. He threw himself into a run, fearful of any weak spots.

By the time he reached the doorway, his terror had faded, and he greeted Yong with a respectful smile. “Good job, Yong. Fire and ice. Nice contrary set of skills. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Yong, under the enormous weight of the backpack, shook his head. “I don’t. That wasn’t me.” He pointed through the doorway. Varian followed him inside. They both held their chemlights out.

A stranger stood in the antechamber, arms folded. His large, wire-rimmed glasses reflected their chemlights in a blinding, green flare. Blinking the afterimage away, Varian saw he was tall, lanky, and older, though not by much. His chin length, light blonde hair was raked into a messy ponytail, the back shaved close to the skin. A haversack hung crosswise on his body, and he had a longbow strapped to his back. “Well?” he said. “Are you gonna thank me?”

It was the guy who had stolen the totem. “Give me back that element!” Varian snarled.

The thief gave a snort. “If you’re not going to thank me –” He turned and sprinted for an exit tunnel behind him. Varian and Yong started after him, but the head start was too great. The thief spun on his heel and, smile on his face, tossed an ice blue orb down at his feet. The tunnel filled, sealing the exit with ice.

Varian slammed a fist on ice wall, crestfallen. They couldn’t follow until they broke through. By then, the thief would be long gone. Varian slid down the plane of ice, feeling like a failure.

“Hey, no problem,” said Yong. “I can us get through this.” He fumbled through his belongings. Holding matches and firecrackers, the chemlight fell from his hand. It shattered, and half their scant illumination disintegrated. “Oops.”

Varian buried his head in his hands.

Chapter Text

After nightfall, Varian trudged along the road back to Corona. His pack weighed heavier now, though it contained nothing new. He strode with hands tucked under his arms, head down, watching his feet walk. Ruddiger trotted at his side, the occasional chirp checking on Varian’s state of mind.

“This was stupid anyway,” Varian muttered. The entire trip had been fantasy, a frantic grasping at straws. Had he really pictured his mom happily reading for eighteen years, too engrossed to recall her family?

Yong had been the one to uncover Demanitus’ inscriptions, not Varian, and he’d gotten the forge to work without hesitation. Making the element at all was Yong’s doing. Varian hadn’t won the first totem, and now it was gone. They couldn’t even try again – the forge was destroyed. All he’d done was get sick, be shown up by a ten-year-old, and sympathy-rescued by a thief. Humiliated, Varian chose to go home.

Having already lost one totem, the others didn’t matter now. He’d been foolish to think he could do better than his mother and her partner, two mature adults far more experienced than him. With a shudder, he remembered all the explosions and disasters he’d caused by trying too hard, ambition chewing through him, leaving devastation in his wake. Thank goodness no one from Corona witnessed his shame this time. Even a hasty goodbye to Yong meant avoiding a retelling of the tale to the boy’s family.

A quaint tavern stood at the road out of Bayangor, just before the hill began its steep slope. Chimneys belched smoke plumes into the night. A cacophony of voices rang from within. Horses tied to a post grazed lazily in the forefront. A sign reading The Blind Prince hung flat in the windless evening. Stopping meant a meal and, hopefully, a bed. Sleeping on the ground was its own sort of tiresome, and the clinic’s pallet, though clean, lacked stuffing.

Varian peeled off the road and nodded at Ruddiger to remain outside. He pushed the door open and found the standard type of chaos that permeated most taverns. Tough-looking travelers gambled or arm-wrestled at tables, their drunken laughter raucous and loud. A group made a game of throwing knives in a corner. Over the din, someone plucked a tune on a lyre. Chandeliers and candelabras, all dripping trickles of wax, gave enough light to see and enough shadow to obscure illegal activity.

Varian knew enough criminals to keep his nerve. He hung his backpack by the door and ventured deeper into the building. A casual glance located the person with the lyre lounging in an overstuffed chair by the window. He was tall, long legs draped over one arm of the chair, at languid ease in an establishment of ill-repute. He was also familiar and spotted Varian at the same time. “Hey, hey!” called the temple thief. “It’s Blue!” His cheerful tone made it sound as if they knew each other.

“You!” Varian thundered. He stomped over, fists at his sides. “Hand the totem over! You didn’t earn it.”

“As I recall,” said the thief, pausing to strum the lyre and give Varian a pointed glance, “you earned half of it, at best.”

Embarrassment made Varian’s ears burn. “Well, that’s… not even the point! Look, I need that!”

“Ever stop to think I might need it?”

“Not for a moment.”

The blonde set the instrument aside and stood. He didn’t have the longbow or haversack on him. “Oh, calm down, Nerd. Demands are no way to get what you want. Besides…” He poked the tip of Varian’s nose and wove away from the following swat. “You catch more flies with honey.” He hopped over the rub-polished bar to browse its stocked shelves. With the tavern in modest disarray, no one intervened.

Varian followed to stand across the bar-top. “You just called yourself a fly.”

“So serious. Relax, Blue.” The thief plucked an emerald-colored bottle off the shelf and poured a modest amount into two lowball glasses. He procured a sugar cube and, with sleight of hand, set it ablaze. He twirled the flaming cube between his fingers before dropping it into a glass. After duplicating the trick for the second glass, he held it aloft. The green liquid in the glass was the same color as his eyes. “Cheers.”

He slid the second drink across to Varian and sipped his own. Varian sighed as he sat on a stool and took the glass. He sampled a mouthful and promptly gagged. “Ugh. That tastes like licorice.”

“Actually, it’s anise,” the thief corrected. “But I understand how someone lacking certain… refinement could mix that up.” He took another swig.

Varian pushed the drink aside. “My name’s not Nerd. Or Blue.”

The thief placed his glass down. “Kinda figured that.”

“It’s Varian.”

The blonde’s face cracked into another annoyingly amused smile. “Ha! That means variable. Nerd was pretty close.” He rested crossed arms on the bar. “I’m Hugo. See? Now we can be friends.”

Varian’s brain did some mental rubber-banding about this guy. Rapunzel, who radiated joy, was all soft edges – in her clothes, the way she’d fashioned her long hair, her expressive face. Hugo was entirely sharp angles – stiff clothes, raking gaze, and jutting features. Even the goggles that hung around his neck were adorned with spikes. He looked dangerous… and exciting.

“Ya know, absinthe is an alchemist’s drink,” Hugo mentioned with a casual air, swirling his glass.

“Is that a fact?” Varian folded his own arms on bar-top and shifted nearer.

“Sure. Got your base liquid, an added element – the sugar – and fire. Those are the fundamentals, right?” As Hugo spoke, Varian noticed a scar notching his left brow. In addition, he’d pierced his left ear with a silver stud in the lobe and a gold orbital cuff. A dusting of freckles dotted his pale face. “Not that anyone uses alchemy anymore. Least, any self-respecting scientist. Alchemy is next to magic, which is next to fairy tales and superstition. Kids’ stuff, really.”

Varian bristled. “Then why use those ice bombs to rescue me?”

Hugo pinned him with a sultry, half-lidded gaze. “Maybe I wanted to impress you. Did it work?”

Heat crawled up Varian’s neck. “No! I mean, yes, it did work in terms of saving me,” he sputtered. “But it really wasn’t that remarkable.”

A smug smile spread across Hugo’s face. “Oh, really?”

“Really.”

A clink.

Varian looked down. His lean had snagged the purple orb on his alchemy belt free. It rolled across the tavern and was promptly stepped on. A vast cloud of violet smoke erupted. People coughed and shouted in alarm.

“That’s a terrible way to store synthesized materials,” said Hugo as Varian leapt from his stool. Purple orbs housed his disorientation gas. Fumes wafted, affecting patrons. The friendly games became hostile. Gamblers threw punches and the knife-throwers’ aim honed to deadly flings. Turmoil escalated, and the crowd turned on each other. One man sent another headfirst through the window.

Someone grabbed the back of Varian’s shirt and hauled him over the bar-top to safety. “Baby’s first bar fight?” Hugo asked as they ducked. Several of the throwing knives hit the shelving above. Shattered glass and liquid rained down on them. “This looks pretty bad,” said Hugo, rifling through the pockets of his jacket. “An explosion of unnatural color tends to make people think witch, and then there’s pitchforks and bonfires and nobody has a good time.” He held up an orange orb. “So, we should probably run.”

Hugo grabbed Varian’s arm, hauled him up, and hurled the orb at the floor between them and the door. A bright orange smoke bomb burst. It looked like a fireball, and people dove away from it, carving a clear path out. He let go of Varian and darted through the haze.

Varian followed two steps behind. On the other side of the cloud, Varian slowed to snag his pack, then sped out the door. Outside, he halted, Ruddiger joining him at his feet. He glanced around wildly, searching for a tall shape in the night. Hugo still had the Fire Trial element. “Where did he go?”

Ruddiger chirred and took off. Varian followed, crashing through brush and kicking over rocks. At the base of a tree, Ruddiger ran in a circle, chatting up a storm. “Nice,” came a voice from up in the branches. “You two are a subtle team.”

Hugo dropped to the ground in a graceful landing. He had the haversack and the longbow once again. Shouting flowed from the road, tavern travelers on the prowl. “Uh, yeah. Not staying.” He sprinted off again, deeper into the surrounding woodland.

This time, Varian stuck close, Ruddiger racing along at a gallop. Following Hugo was like chasing a ghost. Sporadic patches of moonlight nearly caused Varian to lose sight of him. The thief moved quick and silent, weaving around dried foliage and stepping over puddles. They ventured from the road and the sloping mountain that led to Corona, back into the kingdom of Bayangor. As they kept pace, Varian found it strange that Ruddiger didn’t hiss at Hugo, the way he usually did with unfamiliar people.

After a time, Hugo slowed and gazed at the distance they’d put between them and the tavern. He hugged his haversack closer and sighed. “Does this dumb totem really mean that much to you?”

Varian was out of breath, having spent an exhausting day climbing, running, and trying not to die. “More than you can possibly know.”

Hugo tossed his head back and groaned. “A lifetime devoted to discovery and exploration and some sappy kid ruins everything,” he mused through thick melancholy. He dug through his bag and handed a blocky item over. “Here.”

Before Hugo could change his mind, Varian snatched the totem. He sat on a fallen log, turning the totem over in his hands, examining it. Slipping a finger around the chemlight cord, he pulled it out of his shirt and shook it for a better view. Under the green glow of his chemlight, he found he was holding a black, globular-looking rock. More specifically, an iron oxide crystal with metallic luster. “Hematite. Um, okay. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Hugo took a seat next to Varian. He dug into the collar of his jacket and drew out a lanyard. At the end hung a vial. He shook it, and red light glowed to life. “I know,” said Hugo, wistful. “Disappointing street value. But, hey – at least it’s shiny.”

The totem sat forgotten in Varian’s hands as he gaped at Hugo’s chemlight. “You have one, too!”

Hugo looked down at his light and shrugged. “Meh. Common alchemists’ trick.”

“Oh…” Varian thought he’d been original and clever. Awkwardly, he tucked the light back under his shirt, then jolted in understanding. “Wait! Red light! You’ve got a red light!” Yong’s father mentioned that the person who’d brought him to the clinic had a strange red light. And Ruddiger was docile, as if he recognized Hugo. “It was you. You’re the one that found me on the road. You brought me to the village.”

Hugo’s chemlight didn’t throw far, but they could see each other clearly enough. “Found, followed.” Hugo lifted a shoulder. “You’re welcome either way."

Varian stuffed the totem deep in his backpack. “Why would you follow me?”

Hugo reached into his satchel and pulled out a loaf of bread. “You kinda told a bunch of people in Corona what you were planning on doing. Kingdoms love their gossip. Not my fault word spreads. It would have been foolish of me to not shadow you.” He ripped the bread in half and offered a piece to Varian. “Clearly, you were confident that you were going to succeed. Though… from what I’ve seen, that’s left to be proven.”

Varian held the bread, which smelled like rye, as he stewed over the speed and sum of Hugo’s low-flying insults that evening. “You want access to the Library.”

Varian watched the way Hugo ate, plucking pieces from the loaf, gesturing with them before sticking it in his mouth. “Who wouldn’t?” said Hugo, between bites. “Once you’ve done all you can do, you’ve done all you can do. Until you can do more. And I’m not done.”

“And what is it that you do?”

“Well, you’ve already seen the alchemy portion of the tour, and that I can escape… almost anything. Plus, I build, weld, work with mechanized devices and electricity, clockwork, steam engines –”

Varian broke off a piece of bread and paused. “Wait. You… you work with electricity?” He tried to keep the awe from his voice. Manufacturing electricity was a craft he’d heard of from visitors but couldn’t really imagine.

“Of course. I’m from Pittsford. Place practically hums with it.”

Varian chewed his meager meal, getting a little lost in the wonder of currents and conduits.

Finished, Hugo dusted his hands off and intruded on Varian’s thoughts. “Ya know… you really should have someone to watch your back.”

“I’m doing fine, thanks.”

“Not to be that guy, but you weren’t fine on the road to the Fire Kingdom. And the kid did most of the work for the Trial. Need I mention the tavern?”

Through gritted teeth, Varian knew Hugo was right. He shared the canteen from his backpack. “So, you’re thinking… you?”

Hugo took a long drink, then handed the canteen back. He gestured at the vacant forest. “Well, of those present, I would be the best choice.”

Varian sighed. Being on the road was lonelier than expected. Back on track, he had six other kingdoms to tackle. Throughout the Fire Trial, Varian felt like Yong’s older sibling. Hugo was, truly at the very least, a peer. “Are you going to steal from me again?”

Hugo gave Varian’s shoulder a nudge. “Can’t steal what’s ours, right?”

“What do I get out of this?”

“The pleasure of my company isn’t enough?”

“Definitely not.”

Hugo released a puff of sardonic laughter and put a hand over his heart, as if wounded. “Then you’ll have to wait until we get back to that village.” He waggled his brows and hopped off the log. “It’s a surprise,” he whispered. He stood with his head cocked, arms folded, awaiting Varian’s response. Ruddiger chittered and looked between them.

Varian pressed his lips together, trying to ignore a churning unease in his gut. Delving deep, he weighed the fact that Hugo saved him three times already – on the road, using ice during the Trial, and in the tavern. He owed Hugo a chance. “Okay.”

Hugo’s head straightened. “Okay?”

“Yes. Okay, okay?”

Hugo winked. “You won’t regret it.”

“I’d better not,” Varian mumbled. He unfurled his bedroll and flopped onto it. Ruddiger curled up by his head.

“What about me?” Hugo asked. “I was set to have a pleasant night in the tavern before you showed up.”

“Sounds like your problem.”

Silence. Hugo extinguished his light. A mild rustling sound cut through the quiet. “Gross,” Hugo grumbled as he settled on the forest floor. “I hate plants.”

A laugh bubbled out of Varian. “Why would anyone hate plants?”

“Useless stuff. It’s moist and gunks up machinery. Gotta sweep for weeds and moss all the time.”

That sounded similarly like Varian’s own tedium with the leaky pipes throughout Corona.

Varian had an uneasy night in Hugo’s presence. The guy had a way with charisma and reasoning that was too smooth to be authentic. It was going to be a long journey, walking through all seven kingdoms looking over his shoulder the entire time. Secretly, he put Ruddiger on nocturnal alert.

Still, he didn’t get much sleep.

Chapter Text

“Varian!” Yong yelled through the clinic window. The door banged open, and the boy rushed into the morning sunlight to welcome him.

“Heya, kid,” Varian greeted, ruffling his dark hair.

“Oh, my gosh. So, I told my family about the Temple –”

Varian’s limbs turned leaden. If he were any heavier, he could sink through the earth to avoid the shame of mishandling one of Demanitus’ tests, destroying it.

“ – and they were, like, Wow. We didn’t even know there was an underneath. When they heard you had these lights that didn’t even need fire, boy, everybody was impressed. And even though we fell, and there was lava, and the thing you were standing on kinda came apart, we made it out okay!”

“I mean… yeah,” Varian admitted. “We were alright in the end.” Reassured by Yong’s confidence and faith, the weight pulling down on him lifted. “What about the damage to the substructure?”

“Well…” Yong bashfully rubbed the back of his leg with a foot. “I sorta left that out. The Temple is fine. Not like anybody is gonna go down there. My mom’s convincing the village to block off the drop behind the offers, cause it’s hazardous.”

Varian beamed. “Wow, I… looks like you handled everything on your own. Your village must really respect you.”

Yong squirmed and glanced away. “Well… they respect my family, so that’s why people listen. I just wanted to tell a cool story.” When he looked back, he peered past Varian, squinting. “Heeeeyyy… that’s the guy from the Trial!”

Varian turned. Hugo leaned against a fencepost, the upper limb of his longbow poking over a shoulder. “And a first prize lolli for the kid,” said Hugo, snapping his fingers in Yong’s direction.

Yong’s suspicion washed away, replaced with excitement. “I get a lollipop?”

“No.”

“Aw, man…” Yong mumbled.

“Nerd, what are we doing?” Hugo asked, frowning at Varian. “You’re wasting time.”

Ignoring Hugo, Varian faced Yong. “Great news, pal. The mission’s still on! I got the totem back.”

Yong’s face cracked a toothy grin. “That’s awesome! You’re gonna have the best adventure ever!”

“Sure, am. And you’re coming with me.” Yong’s optimistic enthusiasm would naturally counter Hugo’s biting cynicism, balancing them as a team. And having a second set of eyes on the thief wouldn’t hurt, either.

“I… I am?” Yong squeaked.

“Nerd, what –” Hugo interjected.

Varian spoke over him. “You’re smart and fearless and I trust you. I want to show you all seven kingdoms and let you prove to everybody just how respectable you are. Not because you’re the Clinic Kid, but because you’re you. Whadya say?”

Too stunned to speak, Yong stood with his mouth open for a bit. “I… well, I gotta ask my family. Um… I’ll be right back! Don’t move!” He dashed back inside.

Something grabbed Varian’s arm and spun him around. Hugo stared down at him, red blotches of fury crawling from his cheeks to his hairline. “No. Absolutely not. Just you and me. That’s the deal.”

Varian tore his arm back. “There is no deal. And Yong is coming. Or you’re not.”

A torrent of expressions flashed over Hugo’s face. He shook a little – from either panic or rage – and for a moment, Varian was terrified of him.

“What’s this about my son seeing the kingdoms?” Yong’s formidable-looking mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. Yong’s face poked from behind her skirt.

Hugo whipped his head up to address her, a wide smile slicing across his narrow face. “Madam, let me take the opportunity to congratulate you on such a steadfast and talented child. My young apprentice here –” he slung an arm around Varian’s shoulders “– has taken note of Wong’s –”

“Yong,” Varian and Yong’s mother corrected.

“–Yong’s recent contributions in the name of scientific discovery,” Hugo continued with unshakable confidence. “We would like to formally invite him on a journey throughout the kingdoms that only the finest minds could appreciate. Examining feats of ancient engineering, examining the supernatural, being trained in the care and maintenance of highly efficient technology, and, uh…”

“Alchemy,” Varian said in a flat manner.

“And, yeah, yeah, the alchemy stuff. But mostly more modern, practical endeavors.”

“It’s a school, really,” Varian added, following Hugo’s breakneck lead. “And we’d love for him to be a part of it.”

Yong tugged on his mother’s skirt. Her glower softened. “A school? For science?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Hugo.

“Absolutely,” seconded Varian.

“How long would he be gone?” she asked.

“Well…” Varian wouldn’t make a promise he couldn't keep.

“Definitely before the harvest season,” said Hugo. “That’s when we’d circle around for new recruits. If you’d like to wait until then, we understand.” Varian stepped on Hugo’s foot, but the steel on both their shoes just clinked off one another.

“Mama,” Yong peeped. “Please? When I come back, I’ll have learned so much! I want to help the village as much as you, Papa, and Ye Ye do. Just, well, in different ways.”

She cupped Yong’s face. “If that’s what you want, alright. I’ll talk with your father, explain that you’ll have a friend and an adult with you.” Yong whooped in elation, throwing fists in the air.

Hugo let out an amused grunt as Varian fumed. If Hugo was the adult in this scenario, they were doomed before they even began. “Stay out here,” Varian grumbled to Hugo, and he went to help Yong pack. Together, they re-stuffed Varian’s backpack, adding a quantity of Yong’s Fire Kingdom powders. “You know this isn’t really a school, right?” he whispered to Yong.

Yong scrunched his face. “But will I still get to do cool things?”

“Definitely.”

Yong nodded. “Then, that’s awesome.”

Following a quick goodbye to Yong’s family, they headed outside. It took a few minutes to locate Hugo. “Nerd! Kid!” he called from across the roadway. Clinging to the shadows of an apothecary, he stood nearly invisible. It was no exaggeration that he was good at evading capture. His haversack bulged with either purchased or stolen goods. Varian didn’t want to know which was true.

Ruddiger joined them from wherever racoons went to avoid human interaction. Varian peered down to check the compass. The needle pointed northeast. When he looked up, Hugo was making haste past the clinic and around the outskirts of the village. He was also heading south. “You’re going the wrong way,” said Varian, rushing to meet up.

Hugo had an oddly unsettled look on his face. “We go this way first.” He glanced over his shoulder. Varian followed his line of sight to a cluster of people in the village square. They wore a blend of rags and exquisitely crafted attire, and sported eccentric hairstyles.

Saporians.

Varian’s footsteps hurried to match Hugo’s pace, Yong and Ruddiger scurrying behind. His heart raced. Were those Andrew’s friends? Random Saporians making a trade stop in Bayangor? Might they be Hugo’s foes? “What do you know about them?” Varian asked.

“Enough to steer clear,” said Hugo, looking straight ahead.

“Why are we running?” On short legs, Yong had to work hard to keep up.

“Bad guys,” said Varian, as they left the populated village behind. The land around them spread into open fields dotted with flocks of livestock and barns. “Or possible bad guys. Sometimes, it’s best to just make an exit.”

Hugo angled them towards an immense storage tower bigger than a house. Tall ladders ran up the sides to dump grain or rice through the top. It had a hinged roof to keep out rain along with birds and other pests. “Here, hold this.” Hugo shoved his haversack into Yong’s arms and began ascending one of the ladders.

“Where are you going?” Varian called as Hugo disappeared over an eave.

Ruddiger hissed, tail puffing out like a bottlebrush. From the fields, the Saporians emerged. Their mishmash of eclectic clothing looked very strange against the greenery of the pasture and nearby grazing cattle. “Hey, kid,” one said, turning a throwing axe in their hands. “Hand over the Fire Totem.” Others clustered, drawing bows and knives.

Varian’s throat went dry. He’d assumed that them being Andrew’s associates would be the worst outcome. That others – Saporians, no less – would challenge him for the Trial spoils hadn’t crossed his mind. Stupid, he scolded himself. Hugo found him easily enough. Surely others could too.

He glanced at Yong, guilt building. The bulky haversack hung over Yong’s shoulder as the boy stared at the Saporians in confusion and awe. They hadn’t even gotten far enough for Yong to leave his own kingdom. Failure and shame spiraled inside of Varian. A cold flush ran through his body. One hand wrapped around a pink adhesive orb, the other around the corrosive ball, Last Resort.

The top hatches of the storage tower banged open, halves crashing against the sides of the silo. The resulting sound caused Varian to jump, hands moving from the alchemy orbs. He spun around, looked up, and froze in place.

A sleek ship rose from the tower. It was a small vessel, supported by inflated envelopes on either side strapped on with thick, woven netting. There was no mast. A canvas fin sat at the stern, acting as a rudder. Two propellers hung vertically underneath – each as wide across as a man was tall. Twenty long strides in length, and half as wide, it reflected daylight, made of some type of metal, not wood.

A chain-link ladder unfurled to the ground.

Varian found his wits and whirled to face the Saporians. They gave a quick glance up and back at Varian, unphased. No wonder – they were used to air travel. “Don’t even think about it,” a Saporian warned.

“Up up up up up,” he chanted at Yong, who swiftly ascended the ladder. Varian plucked the pink orb free and hurled it. The solution spread out in a glob around the Saporians’ feet, snaring some, but not all. He threw himself at the ladder, climbing as fast as he could. Ruddiger ran up his back, beating him to the deck. The ladder retracted, rolling up.

At the top, Varian slipped free of the pack’s straps as Hugo leaned over him with a nocked longbow. “Head down, please,” said Hugo. Varian ducked as he released the arrow. An explosion of ice spread along the ground between the tower and the Saporians, creating a slippery barrier. Hugo nocked a second arrow. Varian caught that, instead of a point, the shaft was tipped with an alchemical-coated arrowhead in an orange shade. Hugo shot the bow, and another one of his fireball smoke bombs buried the Saporians in haze. “Get to the helm!” Hugo shouted down at him, pulling a glacial blue-tipped arrow from his quiver.

The deck was adorned with pulleys, cranks, and long, steel handles, some sticking up, others poking inwards from the railing like oars. The outer shell of a cabin rose like a box at the stern. Varian ran towards the open helm as opposing arrows clinked off the metal siding of the ship and the side-mounted suspension balloons, which surprisingly held. The ship hung low enough to be a clear target. Yong sat in the center of the deck with Ruddiger in his lap, far enough from either side to be relatively safe.

“Left lever to full!” Hugo called, still slinging defensive arrows over the side.

Varian stared at the helm. It housed a standard wheel, but was also covered with buttons, knobs, and a large lever on either side. “Um, your left or mine?”

“Port!”

Varian shoved the portside lever upwards. A rumbling roar built from within the ship. Hugo widened his stance, bracing. The ship rocketed skyward, treetops and clouds streaking by. Varian and Yong were pressed to the deck. After a few moments, the acceleration slowed and stopped, leaving the ship high in the sky.

Hugo crossed to the forward side of the helm as Varian and Yong peeled themselves up. Ruddiger looked a little green. Hugo stowed the bow on a weapons rack with a set of daggers, a cutlass with a leather-wrapped hilt, and a quiver full of arrows. He spread his arms wide. “Welcome aboard the Prometheus.” He rubbed the glinting metal helm. “Look at it! So shiny. I like shiny.”

“You’ve mentioned,” Varian mumbled. He knew his stories – Prometheus was a Titan and master craftsman who created mortals, sentenced to eternal torment for giving them art and science. That any engineer would name a craft after him seemed incredibly boastful.

Yong tapped at the paneling of the deck. Tiny rivets ran parallel to each seam. “This is steel. Why not use copper? It’s lighter.”

“Yeah, but it would also get us all fried in a storm.” Hugo buzzed, “Zzz.”

“Copper has higher conductivity,” said Varian.

Hugo tapped the tip of his own nose in confirmation.

Varian took a moment to marvel at the ship’s construction. It was streamlined and tightly efficient, not at all like Saporian airships. “You followed me here on foot,” he ruminated. “When did you have the chance to stow this?”

“How humble,” Hugo purred. “I’ll have you know that I have plenty of things to do other than follow you around. When you’ve got speed on your side, there’s time to multitask.”

“This isn’t yours.”

“Of course, it is.”

No way Hugo built this on his own. Varian folded his arms. “We’ve already seen you’re a thief. Just say you stole it.”

Something dark rumbled across Hugo’s face as the insult still hit its mark. “Fine,” he snapped. “If it’ll brighten your day, I stole it.” He pushed past Varian, almost tripping over Ruddiger, adding, “And there’s a strict ‘no rats’ clause on board.”

“He’s not a rat!”

Hugo took up the wheel, scowling. “Which way, Nerd?”

Varian hesitated. Like it or not, Hugo was the captain of this vessel, and provoking him - particularly when they were high above ground – seemed a bad idea. “Northeast. Um, please. Thanks.”

Hugo raised a brow and spun the wheel. The ship cruised through the sky like a sailboat on open water, headed out of Bayangor and into the horizon. Varian wandered to the bow, watching the kingdom race by. There was a grapple mounted on the prow. Though mysterious Saporians haunted below, the three of them had a safe place and speedy travel. Feeling the freedom of the sky, Varian closed his eyes and spread his arms. Cool wind whipped his hair.

“Varian! Varian!” He lowered his arms and turned to find Yong. “It’s steam!” Yong exclaimed, hopping from one foot to another, delighted.

“What’s steam?”

Yong took his wrist and yanked him towards the main deck. “The ship! Come look!” They ran past Hugo, who smirked at them, as Yong led the way into the cabin. The first thing Varian noticed was a squat boiler protruding from the floor in a wide, straight cylinder. Its top was flat and covered in pots and pans, apparently doubling as a cooking surface, the foremost part of a small galley. Cured meats and various produce hung along the wall. Bags of grains and spices hung on pegs.

“C’mon, c’mon.” Yong tugged on his hand again and pulled him through a door at the rear of the galley. There, Varian found living quarters adorned with two sets of plush bunk beds, trunks, Varian’s backpack and Hugo’s satchel, all lit by chemical-based lighting in soft amber shades. Ruddiger had curled onto one of the top bunks. Despite the altitude, the room was warm.

“How is it not freezing in here?” Varian wondered aloud.

“It’s thermal!” said Yong. “Everything is! Check it out.” He forced Varian’s hand against a wall. The surface felt warm to the touch, though not hot.

“But… how?” Varian wondered.

“Simple.” They turned to find Hugo in the doorway. “Steam channels. They branch off from the main boiler, then run parallel to the walls before angling out to the envelopes.” He drummed his fingers against the frame. “You, uh, wanna see the rest?”

Varian opened his mouth, gathering a sassy response, but Yong spoke first, tossing fists in the air. “Yes!”

Hugo swept his hand down and around in a gesturing arc. “Other side then.” As the three of them walked to the front, Hugo jabbed a thumb at the inflated envelopes strapped to the sides. “They’re coated in rubber for durability. They won’t pop without extreme force. Which I would dissuade due to plummeting to our deaths.” He led them to a hatch almost flush with the deck. A handle was inlaid in the steel. He pulled it open, then held up a hand. “Eyes only. No touching.”

Varian and Yong peered into the lower deck. More chemical lights lit the space in a brighter, almost yellow color. There were a lot of moving parts in the ship’s interior. Heavy ballasts rolled within a walkable grid in the hull to stabilize turns and banks. Above the grid sat a circular, spinning engine with a pipe running through it. Rotating pistons and churning wheels filled the rest of the space.

“What powers the engine?” Varian asked.

“I told’ja,” Yong said. “Steam.”

Hugo shook his head. “Nope. That’s a byproduct.”

“Electricity?” Varian hoped. A wide, elated smile stretched his face, teeth on display. To see how electric motors functioned would be a dream come to life.

Hugo held still for a moment, staring at him, green eyes round. “Uh, no. It’s, um, ahem. It’s magnets. Induction. It spins all on its own.” He blinked, two spots of pink on his cheeks. “It heats the main boiler, which leads up into the galley and the rest of the ship.” He lowered the hatch. “Really, the only thing the ship needs is water for the boiler. Other than that, it’s entirely self-sufficient.”

“Like you?” Varian teased.

“I…” Hugo recovered from his fluster and stood tall, hands on his hips. “Exactly.”

Hugo returned to the wheel until nightfall as Varian and Yong settled in. Following a nondescript dinner of ship rations, they retired for the day, the ship idling in the sky. Yong and Ruddiger shared a top bunk. Varian took the lower bed across from Hugo, who hung his glasses on a screw twisted into the frame of the bunk.

Being back in a proper bed was an intoxicating luxury for Varian. The ship’s sounds – the subtle hiss of steam and hum from propulsion motors, combined with the creaking of metal paneling against windshear – served to lull him into near immediate sleep.

At some point in the night, he woke. The heels of Hugo’s boots clicked on the metal floor as he slipped from their quarters. Varian crept from his bed as Yong and Ruddiger snored above. He pocketed his last pink orb. In his blue shirt, short pants and stockinged feet, he followed Hugo across the deck, treading lightly. Under a blaze of northern starlight, Hugo pulled the front hatch open and dropped inside.

Slow as molasses, Varian tiptoed across the deck. He swallowed, heart pumping, worried over what he’d find. Carefully, he lowered himself into the bowels of the ship. With all the machinery inside, it was louder than expected, steam hissing and gears grinding. A hand slid into the pocket with the orb as he wove around moving parts on the lookout for Hugo. The ballasts barely moved under the grate beneath his feet, keeping the ship even. He peered through breaks in the equipment, finding nothing. Moving aft, he saw the boiler in full, an enormous copper tank that stretched from the hull to the galley above, too wide for even his father to wrap his arms around. The lights past the boiler changed, noxious yellow turning a paler shade. Varian inched towards the tapered bulkhead of the ship. He came around a steel pillar and stopped.

The very rear of the ship created a tight, V-shaped nook. A small workspace sat beneath a small, open window. An alchemy table stood on one side with a depressed center, evidence of grinding with a pestle. Rack of vials and flasks, a flame burner and globes, all secured, sat atop the back of the table. Above it, a shelf of ingredients rested behind tight netting if case of turbulence. On the other side, a rack of absolutely miniscule gears, screws, and pieces of metal gleamed under the lights. A second table mirrored the first, this one littered with more tiny components. Hugo hunched over that table, working on something that clicked.

“What are you doing?” Varian asked.

Hugo turned, brows raised. “Oh, hey, Blue. You caught me. Side project.” He nodded for Varian to come closer. “Sometimes I can’t sleep and come down here.”

Wary, Varian eased to his side, hand still in his pocket, and peered around his shoulder. Hugo held out his hand. A delicate, sophisticated clockwork dragonfly rested in his palm. Four wings with ornate wire weaving attached to a thorax barely larger than a finger. Its tiny legs looked like needles. The eye holes were hollow, purely aesthetic.

“It’s beautiful,” Varian breathed. He removed his hand from his pocket.

Hugo paused, then spoke fast. “Yeah, I mean, it’s pretty complicated. I make ‘em a lot, so I don’t really notice anymore, but I get that they look, well… cool.” He clicked open a small, collapsible pocket wrench and busied himself with the dragonfly.

Varian wavered, studying Hugo’s profile. For someone so annoyingly sure of himself, the guy got flustered by praise and impressed smiles easily. Varian began to think he was wrong about Hugo and the ship. Despite agreeing the ship was stolen, he certainly knew his way around it. Had he lied to avoid an explanation, or to avoid a fight with Varian?

Varian opened his mouth to ask when Hugo said, “That’ll do it.” He collapsed the wrench and pocketed it. He pinched the dragonfly’s petite head and twisted it in a complex series of turns. Varian understood why Hugo’s gloves were fingerless – he tended to work with minuscule apparatuses. He looked down at his own bare hands. He worked with chemicals requiring more intense protection. Here they were, the alchemist and the engineer. No wonder Hugo sneered at alchemy – his work was vastly different.

Holding the dragonfly tight, Hugo lifted it to the window. He released it, and it fluttered off into the night.

“Wow,” Varian uttered. “Where does it go?”

“Oh, who knows,” Hugo said. He turned and started back through the lower deck. “Important thing is that it works. And next time, I’ll build it better and faster.”

Varian followed him back to the cabin, feeling a grudging respect for Hugo. Sure, he was arrogant, but had the aptitude to back it up. He was creative, inspirational, and utterly confident. Something bubbled in Varian’s chest as he crawled into bed. Jealousy? Admiration? He wasn’t sure. But it was something, and it was there.

Chapter Text

Hugo spent his days looking bored at the helm, keeping the Prometheus on track, crossing back and forth between the wheel and various levers and pulleys. Yong took over as resident chef, serving mostly traditional Fire Kingdom food. When not cooking, Yong toiled in the lower deck lab, working to finesse a modification on Demanitus’ ring of fire mortar idea. Hugo put his foot down over onboard detonations, something that Varian heartily agreed with. This left Yong with one choice – firing his experiments into open air over the side. So far, there’d been copious smoke and jettisoned flames, but nothing resembling a ring. Ruddiger, who stuck by Yong’s side, had strict orders to alert Varian should the boy’s tests become hazardous.

Though Hugo and Yong both had onboard duties, Varian played his own part, sketching equations all over the inside of the hold, an extension of his notebook compiling his mother’s journal, Donella’s notes, and Demanitus’ digest of works. All three books and Donella’s loose leave pages littered both lower bunks as Varian scrawled in charcoal and chalk on the flat walls of the living quarters, exhausting himself under the amber chemlights as he tried to find common threads of ideas.

Red, Ulla had written of the Water Trial. Fury? Passion? Sacrifice? The blood lost in disputes over old magic?

Varian tapped chalk against a tooth. The Prometheus sailed over the kingdom of Neserdnia, which had been the Saporia of old, before warfare and shifting boundaries. He knew enough from Andrew’s boasting during their time on the barge that Saporia had been a land renowned for its use of magic and illusion. Some of Andrew’s farfetched tales highlighted the taming of mythical creatures, mind-control, and even the ability to imprison someone’s essence, their very soul, inside gemstones. Varian could only be so skeptical – he’d seen mind-control first-hand when the Saporians took over Corona. And master alchemists combined both applied science and enchantment to get results.

He consulted Donella’s loose pages. The beasts are the totem! Red seaweed! Ulla’s no fighter. Her head is full of clouds and dreams. Which is why I suppose I agreed to this. She imagines the world in a way I simply cannot.

Varian put the papers down and frowned. His mother persuaded Donella? He’d been under the impression this was a joint venture between the two women. A notion formed that no one really knew Ulla, or her peculiar motives. He felt for his father, to have such an enigmatic spouse.

Demanitus’ notes mentioned the second stage of alchemy, dissolution - the process of dissolving or breaking apart. A faded comment said something about the perception of truth.

Varian stood on one of the trunks to write Dissolution = Solvent = Water?? on a wall. Break down and release of ashes from calcination? Pure properties.

“What in the wide kingdoms have you done in here?” a voice accused.

Varian whipped around, shoulders hunched in surprise.

Hugo stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, a concerned and disgusted look on his face as he scanned Varian’s vandalization of his ship.

“I was… I was just… making some notes.” Varian blinked at his scribbles with fresh eyes. He’d mirrored Ulla’s manic annotations all over the inside of the hold. Sentences and ideas overlapped in some places, the bright chalk marking right over the dark charcoal, smudging it. “Aw, this is nothing.” Varian masked his embarrassment with a glib laugh. “You should have seen the wall of my dungeon cell – cel…. ebration!” The slip of his tongue caused heat to climb his ears. “For when I… I added plumbing to the palace prison. I mean, do the time without the grime, heh heh…”

Hugo leaned across his bed in rapt attention, fists propping up either side of his jaw. Donella’s pages crinkled beneath his elbows. “Blue, did you do time?”

“What? Uh, no. That’s assumptive…”

“Were you in the hoosegow, the clink, the slammer, the pokey –”

“That’s none of your business,” Varian snapped, anger and shame flaring.

“– the big house, the coop, the icebox –”

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” Varian shouted, tossing the chalk aside.

Hugo stopped, lips pursed, brow furrowed. “Noted.”

Varian hopped off the trunk and stomped to the deck. Sun warmed the back of his shirt as he gripped the railing, fingers curling, staring out over the seaboard kingdom of Neserdnia. The day was sunny and clear, a crispness in the breeze blowing from the northeast open ocean. The Prometheus idled in the sky above the waters of the Saporian Sea. Its depths were deep cerulean, the shallows a lighter azure. Waves crashed and foamed along a crescent of sandy beach that sparkled with white sand.

Varian blew out a long breath, his temper evening out. It was easy to laugh and smile around Yong. With Hugo, Varian sported conflicting emotions. One moment, he wanted to be shoulder-to-shoulder with the older boy in the lab. Other times – particularly when Hugo opened his mouth – Varian wanted to be at the opposite end of the ship.

He pulled out the compass and flipped the lid open. The needle slowly swung on the dial, tip angling towards the beach.

“Hey, Varian!” Yong called from the bow of the ship, heading over.

“Compass is off,” Hugo said over Varian’s shoulder, making him jump in surprise. “That’s not full north.” He held out his hand. “Gimme. I can fix anything that’s busted.” With his other hand, he flicked something small and cylindrical from a pocket. It was the same instrument he’d used on the intricate dragonfly – a collapsible, multi-use tool with heads small enough to work the screws on his glasses.

Varian yanked the compass out of reach. “It’s not broken, it’s… it’s my mother’s. She’s helping me decipher the path.”

“Ohhh.” Hugo muttered in a stage whisper to Yong, “So, he’s crazy.”

“I’m not crazy!” Varian exclaimed. “There’s a perfectly rational explanation.”

“For the broken compass?” Yong asked.

“It’s not broken! It just works… differently.”

Hugo huffed. “Well, if that’s not a self-inserting statement, I don’t know what is.”

Yong ignored Hugo and pulled on Varian’s sleeve. “Did you see the beach?”

“I… yes? What about it?”

“It’s got words.” All three looked out at the shoreline. “I was shooting my fire-bombs over the side, and I kept noticing something weird.” Yong pointed at a clear stretch of beach, heaped rocks bordering either side. “There.”

They stared.

“What am I looking at?” Hugo asked.

“The tide,” said Varian, leaning as far as he dared over the railing, compass tight in his hand. Each time the waves receded, dark lines appeared in the damp sand. He squinted. The marks looked like lettering.

“I think there was more of it earlier,” said Yong, “but we were too far away.”

“Hugo, can you lower the ship?” Varian asked.

Hugo stood still, lines creasing his forehead as he frowned. His freckled skin seemed paler than normal. “This is Neserdnia.”

“I know.”

“I can’t be seen here. I’m kinda… wanted.”

Varian’s frown matched his. He glanced back over the land. Saporians still lurked in the corners of their former home. To the best of his knowledge, Varian was still a traitor to them. This place was dangerous for both of them. “We won’t touch down,” he offered. “We just need to see the inscription.”

The sigh Hugo gave was long and low. He headed to the lower deck without a word.

Ruddiger bounded onto Varian’s shoulder. Yong joined him at the rail, watching the beach. The hissing sound of escaping steam came from the inflation balloons and the ship descended sluggishly. It took so long to lower that by the time the Prometheus stabilized a dozen meters above the shallows, the tide had moved far enough out, and the full inscription was visible. 

Trust Yourself

Not Your Eyes

Look Beyond

To Avoid Surprise

Water lapped at the ending line as Hugo joined them on deck. Shadow draped the ship like a tossed blanket. Yong blinked and looked up. “When did it get cloudy?”

Hugo’s steps slowed. “What are you talking about?”

A haunting melody rode the air. Varian and Yong leaned over the rail once more. Yong gasped in surprise and delight. “Look! Mermaids!”

Figures darted within the bright blue of the shallows, elegant tailfins breeching the surface, slender arms stroking the current. One by one, their heads poked up, hair shining wet, observing the ship, six in total. “Wow…” Varian uttered, clutching the forgotten compass. Each of them were stunning in a classical painting kind of way, the type of beauty that was eternal and renowned. One particular mermaid had straw blonde hair, and locked eyes with him. She gestured in time with the tune they sang.

“Excuse me?” Hugo snapped, as if they were playing a joke on him. He elbowed between the others and glanced down. Instantaneously, he sprang back. “Are you dense?” he screeched. “No way those things are mermaids.”

“Clean your glasses,” Varian said. “You’re just jealous.” Hugo’s disrespect often rubbed him raw, but a numb sensation of apathy crawled through his being.

Hugo reeled in true offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You try so hard to be charming,” Varian clarified. “The most interesting person in the room. But it’s fake, and you know it.” He waved at the waters below. “You wish you could be so effortlessly appealing.”

Hugo snorted. “Oh, yeah, you nailed it.” He looked down again and shook his head. “I don’t get your taste, Blue.”

The mermaids’ music swelled, their silvery notes rising and falling in perfect harmony. “Calm down,” Varian placated. “Everything is fine.”

“Everything is fine,” Yong echoed blankly from the helm. He pushed one of the buttons, and the chain-link ladder unfurled over the side. Varian smiled proudly. Yes. They needed to greet their underwater spectators.

“Don’t!” Hugo yelped. He started towards Yong, but Varian caught him around the middle and yanked him back. Both bounced off the railing. Ulla’s compass flew through the air. Hugo, with longer arms and quicker reflexes, seized the compass before it could drop into the ocean. “Are you kidding me?” he snarled. “This is the adverse of fine!”

The ship rocked to one side as something heavy wrenched on the dangling ladder. Hugo slipped around Varian and rushed to the helm. Varian plucked a pink orb from his belt and hurled it at Hugo. The ball popped in a gooey blast, leaving Hugo adhered to the wheel. “Have you lost your marbles?” Hugo shouted, struggling. “Nerd, let me go!”

The ethereal melody continued. Varian and Yong had a role to fill. They were emissaries, and Hugo was going to give the mermaids a poor impression. “You’re being rude,” Varian chastised.

“I’m being – ? You’re being crazy!”  

Varian whipped his head around, looking for Yong. The hatch to the lower deck was wide open. He took a step towards it as the constant hum from the boiler ceased. The steel ship endured a stomach-churning drop downwards. As it hit the ocean’s surface, loose items went tumbling. Ropes slid from their coils and spilled along the deck. The grapple at the bow quivered from the jolt.

The ship bobbed, listing slightly side to side. “This is not a watertight vessel!” Hugo shrieked, fighting his bonds.

Varian rushed to the hatch. “Yong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” came his small voice. “Did it work?”

“Sure did. Good thinking.” How fortunate to have grought Yong. Hugo would have ruined everything.

Ruddiger launched himself at Varian, hitting him in the chest and scrambling over his shoulder and down his back. Varian whirled as the raccoon raced to the helm, a white neutralizing orb in his mouth. He dropped it on the pink mass pinning Hugo. “Good job, Rat!” Hugo congratulated, as the substance dissolved. He dived for the weapons rack, pulling the curving cutlass free. Holding it in front of him, he said, “I’m not gonna let you destroy my ship in a fit of delusion!”

The ship rocked violently as the mermaids boarded, crawling up the ladder and over the thatched netting holding the side-mounted suspension balloons in place. Sinuous arms crested the rails as they hauled themselves up, showing their feminine, angelic faces and flowing hair. Their lower halves gleamed like blue-green algae, fins broad and translucent.

Hugo sprinted towards Varian, throwing himself into a slide at the last moment, hitting Varian in the shins and taking them both down. Hugo slammed the hatch to the lower deck closed and slipped the hilt of the curved sword through the handle, locking Yong inside. On his knees, Hugo grabbed Varian, taking up his entire field of vision. All Varian could see was Hugo’s pale face and wide, hysterical green eyes. “C’mon, Nerd!” he yelled. “You’re smarter than this! Figure it out!”

Varian flinched. Hugo was so loud, screaming like that. The mermaids’ song bled into the background. He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what Hugo’s problem was.

“Varian, please!” Hugo begged, shaking him. “Wake up! I can’t do this on my own!”  

More than anything, it was Hugo’s use of Varian’s name that sobered him. Uncertainty clung around his head like a fog.

Fog.

Varian tilted his head to look at the cloud cover that had blown in so quickly, darkening their surroundings. Everything seemed soft and unfocused, like a dream, and it was hard to think. What were the words from the inscription? Something about trust? Or… disbelief? Past Hugo, he saw the mermaids haul themselves along the deck, drawing nearer. Their long hair flowed freely, without a trace of dampness from the sea.

This isn’t real.

Varian gasped a sharp inhale. The mist leeched away, and he found himself kneeling in harsh, broad daylight. He saw the half dozen mermaids for what they really were – cow-sized quadrupeds covered in gleaming red and gold scales all the way to their thick, spiny tails. Strong legs and arms were tipped with raked talons. They had protruding, lidless eyes, and wide mouths revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. Reddish hair hung like seaweed, and they stank of rotting compost – the beasts from Donella’s notes. They bellowed blasts of vibrating sonar, not even words, let alone singing. Their sharp claws slashed fissures in the steel deck, leaving shavings.

“Okay. I, uh,” Varian said, sweating, “I take back everything!”

Hugo yanked him into standing. The beasts circled the two of them like pack animals as they pressed back-to-back. “Plan?” Hugo asked.

One beast spat directly at them. They ducked, but a dribble slid down Varian’s bare forearm between his glove and sleeve. It tingled his skin as if it were a type of toxin. He wiped it away before it could do further damage. They were over the hatch to the lower deck. Varian rolled through the lab’s inventory in his head. “I go down, you buy me time.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” Hugo whipped the cutlass from the hatch’s handle and dropped an orange smoke bomb on deck. Fumes engulfed both him and the beasts.

Varian lifted hatch and dropped, his boots splashing in seawater. Ruddiger landed like a cannon ball at his side, sending water flying. “Varian!” Yong called, joining from deeper within the deck. “Good. We can go back up now!”

A long, clawed forearm snaked through the hatch, swiping.

“Yong!” Varian grabbed his shoulders and shoved him backwards. “Look out!”

A beast stuck their head inside the lower deck, roaring. It sent another glob of spit hurling. A grey blur soared past Varian’s face, taking the force of the spitball in Varian’s stead. “Ruddiger!” he screamed.

Above, Hugo gave a feral yell. The beast recoiled, howling, and disappeared from sight. Roars and thumps sounded, and Hugo fell through the open hatch, landing hard enough to lose the cutlass in rising water. He slapped around and came up with a length of spare piping that equaled his height. The pipe was nowhere near broad enough to block the open hatch, but he used it to hinder easy access. “Whatever you’re gonna do, Nerd, now’s the time!” Clawed hands scratched at the pipe, trying to rip it from Hugo’s hands.

“Yong, help him!” Varian commanded, needing to leave them behind. Water leaked through the seams of the hull as he waded towards the lab. With the boiler down, nothing moved, rods and pistons frozen in place. The rising water level had interrupted the magnets, causing the motor to still. Amid the sounds of Hugo and Yong struggling, coupled with the sound of wrenching metal, Varian arrived at the small workspace. It was providence that Hugo – or whoever owned Prometheus – had the foresight to strap racks of ingredients to the wall, lest they be lost and dissolving in the water that sloshed up Varian’s boots.

He knew how to compose his amber solution by heart and reached for the components. The mixture could certainly stop anything in its tracks. He added a combustible to the flask in his hand and jogged back to the hatch. The toe of his boot caught on the ballast grid underwater and almost sent him toppling. He righted himself and shouted, “Hugo! Yong! Get down!” The flask rattled in his grasp, solution bubbling.

Around the hatch, the metal had bent. The taller and shorter boys looked at him. Hugo dropped the pipe and hauled Yong down into the water. The beasts clustered tight near the opening above, obscuring anything beyond that small square. One beast jostled another, and the second craned its head back to snap at the first. An opening appeared between the monsters.

Varian did a quick calculation of gravitational force, velocity, and blast radius. He flung the flask up into that gap and dived into the shallow water with the others. Breaking glass and the sound of an explosion rattled the deck. An instant later, loud bangs clattered along the metal above. Then, silence.

The three boys panted and glanced at each other as they stood on shaky legs. Varian moved towards the open hatch. Hugo grabbed his wrist. “I think it’s okay,” Varian told him, and climbed on deck.

All six beasts lay scattered near the hatch, frozen in time, each encased in their own tomb of amber, mouths still open, claws still outstretched. Hugo followed Varian up. “Well,” he muttered, looking around. “Decent timing, I’ll give you that.”

“But why couldn’t they just come in?” Yong asked, glancing between the other two, confused. “They were pretty. And I liked their singing.”

Varian paused. Yong had helped Hugo the moment Varian asked him to, without knowing why or challenging them. He was either very loyal or very simple. Varian chose to believe the former. “They weren’t what they seemed, Yong.” He watched Hugo move between the beasts, inspecting them, rapping knuckles on the solid amber. “Hugo saved us.”

“Oh, jeez,” Hugo grumbled, bending down. He held up a long strand of a beast’s reddish seaweed hair. “I was hacking and slashing, but the best I could do was give one a haircut.”

Finally recalling the Water Trial notes, Varian gasped, “Red seaweed! The beasts are the totem! Hugo, keep that! It’s what we came for!”

“Uh, sure thing, Blue.” Hugo fumbled with it in his hands. “Gross,” he mumbled. “It’s slimy…” He headed back into the lower deck, likely looking for a container.

Yong and Varian followed to restart the boiler and address the motor to get it spinning again. The ship slowly rose from the sea, just enough for the water level below deck to drain.

“Wait,” Varian said, ducking out of the way as the rods and pistons started turning once more. He glanced around in a panic. “Where’s Ruddiger?”

Chapter Text

“Aw, Varian,” said Yong, squeezing his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Varian rolled his arm away. A viciously devastating feeling tumbled loose inside of him like a clump of snow sliding downhill. He prayed it wouldn’t incite an avalanche. “Just… just go up, Yong. I’ll be there in a sec.”

The tarp they’d placed over Ruddiger was far too large, obscuring the shape beneath. Good. It was easier without the incessant reminder of the raccoon’s stiff and unresponsive body. During the fight, Ruddiger’d climbed onto one of the steam pumps lining the wall, where he’d apparently perished. At first, Varian thought he’d drowned within the flooded lower deck, but he wasn’t wet. Varian couldn’t detect breathing, and a glob of whatever that beast had spat at him clung to Ruddiger’s fur in a glistening sheen, coating his little body, proving deadly. They’d have to disembark the ship to bury him.

The cost of this journey was already too high.

The naturally mystical arena of Saporia had given Demanitus an easy staging ground for his Water Trial. Just because Varian chose to ignore the magical aspects of alchemy didn’t mean they’d faded from existence. According to Donella’s accounts, his mother had been as inept as Varian. He hadn’t heeded the inscription. He hadn’t remembered the notes he’d taken or read. None of it. He’d been utterly helpless, bamboozled by Sirens like plenty of dumb storybook adventurers. “Wouldn’t have fooled Flynnigan Rider,” he muttered, exiting the lower deck.

And they hadn’t fooled Hugo.

The ship cruised leisurely along the coastline, following a straight line as if programmed. Additional globs of beast saliva coated the railings and deck, shining with a pearlescent gleam in the sun. Varian stopped and stared as Hugo and Yong, using a tipped barrel and a pipe, levered the amber-encased beasts over the side of the ship one by one. Still low over the water, each caused a splash as it hit and sunk into the shallows below. In the daylight, Varian saw they were using the same pipe from before, and he only now noticed it was brass.

Hugo’d been below deck, and never even saw the full inscription on the beach. Though Varian had expected some level of self-serving cowardice, Hugo was suicidally brave throughout the entire ordeal. Varian was happy to be wrong, and glad to have him along. He realized he had to share his notes, as he’d proven to be unreliable, and needed more brainpower at play. “They didn’t trick you,” he said, as Hugo and Yong hoisted the final beast overboard. “Not even for a second.”

“What can I say?” said Hugo, brushing off his hands. “I’m not as thickheaded and gullible as you two. Oh, yeah. And you almost lost this.” He returned Ulla’s compass, which Varian snatched away.

Varian frowned at the callous response, and his respect wavered. Internal doubt and self-loathing kicked into overdrive. He slid the compass into its pouch at his belt. “My mom didn’t warn us…” Her image and voice had abandoned him, leaving him unprepared, stupid, and reckless.

“Then, your mother’s as useless as you are,” Hugo said, heading towards the helm.

Something twanged in Varian’s chest, and he saw red. He launched into a run and tackled Hugo, who let out a squawk as they hit the metal deck. “Take that back!” Varian shouted, balling his fists and delivering true punches as Hugo squirmed beneath him.

“You’re out of your mind!” Hugo deflected Varian’s blows with his forearms, but didn’t return them, dodging out of the way.

“Hey!” Yong called. “Stop that!”

Hugo elbowed Varian in the throat, making him choke. Hugo slithered out from under him and ran, Varian following steps behind, inches from grabbing him. At the helm, Hugo cranked the right lever as he darted past, cutting propulsion to the ship. It lurched to a sudden stop, and Varian stumbled.

“C’mon, guys!” Yong pleaded from the foredeck. “This isn’t funny!”

Hugo continued a wide arc around the cabin. Each time Varian got close, he twisted away, darting along an unpredictable path. The ship was still a mess from Varian and Yong’s sabotage – ropes, buckets, and barrels littered the deck, along with the pipe. The obstacles made them slow down in places.

Copying Hugo’s move from earlier, Varian threw himself into a slide and knocked into Hugo’s legs, making him lose footing. Hugo skidded into a jumble of rope and collided into the rail of the ship. Off kilter, his arms windmilled in an attempt to balance himself. He failed, and pitched over the side, boots tangled in the rope.

Varian’s head cleared instantly. He made a jump for the end of the rope, but it whipped over the railing.

There was a brief cry and a splash.

A stunned moment of silence reigned on board. “Lower the ship!” Varian yelled at Yong. He slipped out of his bandolier, boots, and gloves, and climbed onto the railing. The surface of the water barely moved. A thin stream of bubbles drew his gaze. The bubbles slowed and stopped. Varian knocked his googles off and dove over the side. As he plunged underwater, a stinging slap of cold shocked his skin. After an instant of disorientation, Varian was able to make out his surroundings.

Clear blue water stood less than ten meters deep. All around him, the sea floor was littered with figurines of the beasts they’d fought. Some were amber-encased – his work – gleaming in the shallows like golden statues in a gallery. Others were frozen in stone or marble. They looked oddly stunning in shimmering beams of light that permeated the surface.

Among the trapped beasts, a figure thrashed. Drawn by the crimson glow of Hugo’s chemlight, floating free around his neck, Varian swam in his direction. The rope securing Hugo’s legs had snared around one of the branching twists of amber, tethering him to a sculpture. Hugo curled in on himself, eyes and mouth squeezed shut, his hair swaying in the current.

Varian tried to assist, but the rope, swollen with water, proved impossible to unwind. Trying to figure a way to help, he grit his teeth to hold in air.

Air!

He grabbed Hugo and sealed their mouths, blowing air past Hugo’s lips. Hugo jerked back but opened his eyes, blinking in surprise. He exhaled bubbles through his nose. His glasses floated comically high on his face.

It worked!

Varian nearly laughed in elation. He stroked for the surface, broke, and drew a deep inhale. The ship was blessedly closer. Yong called, “Varian! What –”

He dove back down. His own chemlight came free, giving off green. Hugo reached to accept him, knotting fists in Varian’s shirt. They connected again, and Varian gave all he could, emptying his lungs. A second of doubt and either of them could panic, gulp water, and drown.

Varian left him behind, reached the surface and gasped. He felt light-headed. “Yong!” he yelled up. “I need a knife!” He inhaled and dove. He and Hugo had a rhythm now, mouths fastened, hands gripping. Hugo seemed calmer, but his eyes held concern. They couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

Leaving him was harder this time, worry yanking at Varian’s psyche. As he surfaced, Yong warned, “Look out!” Something caught the sun in a flash of light as it fell. It splashed nearby, and Varian snatched it before it could sink. It was the cutlass. Exhausted, Varian lingered an extra few seconds before heading down. As he fed Hugo air, he pressed the hilt of the cutlass into his hand.

Varian rose, panting. He pulled a long inhale and headed back. A freed Hugo met him halfway, clutched him and pressed their mouths together. They didn’t trade air, just floated. The light from their vials danced, red and green refracting off shafts of sunlight in the crystalline shallows.

Together, they swam up and breached. The bottom of the chain-link ladder, a little dented from the beasts’ ascent, bobbed at the surface. They panted, holding on to each other’s sleeves, before heading to the ladder and climbing it. They both lay on the deck for a while, gasping, water dripping from their clothes and into seams in the metal. The entire ordeal lasted probably less than five minutes, but felt hours long.

Yong’s face appeared upside down in Varian’s vision. “Whoa! Are you guys okay?”

“Zero stars,” said Hugo, wincing and rubbing his chest. “Would not recommend.”

Varian sure felt like he saw stars. He found it hard to process everything that had happened in the last few hours. The fight. Ruddiger. The other fight. Being underwater. He wanted to sleep for a week. He held out a hand, and Yong pulled him up. Hair dripping down his face, he stood over Hugo as he wrang out his shirt. “But are you alright?”

Hugo stayed down. He looked worn out, though his thin glasses had made it through intact. He raised a finger. “You two better fix everything you ruined. Don’t make me turn this ship around.”

Very aware that Hugo hadn’t given either of them an answer, Varian backed off. He retrieved his discarded apparel and gear and headed into the lower deck with Yong. The two of them worked to restore the alchemy lab and workshop while Hugo organized the upper deck. Varian kept to his task of drying and rearranging quietly, bleary-eyed over the loss of Ruddiger and his own ineptitudes.

“Hey!” Hugo shouted from the other side of the lower deck. Varian sighed deeply, wondering what fresh problem had arisen. “Your rat’s awake!” Hugo finished.

A small sunburst lit up inside of Varian. Renewed energy shot down his limbs as he turned. Ruddiger tore around a corner and raced up Varian’s side, nuzzling his neck. Varian squeezed him tight enough to make him struggle and squeal. “The effects of the toxin were temporary!” he cried in relief. “It was a paralytic that metabolized!” He set Ruddiger down. “I’ve got to collect samples!”

Hugo poked his head around a column and tossed something at Varian. “Way ahead of you, Nerd.” He disappeared, heading back up.

Varian held a modest, sealed jar of murky, viscous gel. A label read Fish Spit in swirling cursive. The lettering had the same color as Varian’s inkwell from the cabin. So Hugo’d been through his things. Varian wasn’t shocked. He placed the jar on a shelf in the lab. The Trial had been about dissolution, breaking down, and seeing the truth. Varian saw his true self – naïve and unstable – while Yong remained faithful, and Hugo stayed prickly yet capable.   

“Hey,” Yong said, intruding on Varian’s contemplations. He held up the scratched and beaten brass pipe. “Can I use this?”

“I, uh, sure.” Varian shrugged. “Why not?”

“Awesome.” Yong placed it on the worktable and hummed in thought, running a finger along it in sections, as if measuring.

“I’m gonna step out for a little while,” Varian told Yong. The boy gave a thumbs-up over his shoulder. Varian climbed out of the hatch and held out his arms. “Buddy?” Within moments, Ruddiger appeared, dragging a bag with him. He deposited the bag in Varian’s arms and crawled onto his shoulder. The bag contained apples, which the two shared as the sun set.

Soaring embarrassment filled Varian. After all this time, he still struggled with managing anger. He’d lost control entirely and nearly gotten someone killed moments after they’d saved him. Yong had been instrumental to the Fire Trail, and Hugo handled the Water Trial almost entirely on his own. Hugo, though grating at times, had been rescuing Varian before they even knew each other.

He shrugged Ruddiger off and handed him the rest of the apple bag. “Where is he?” Varian asked. Ruddiger chirped and pointed at the cabin. Varian squared his shoulders and went to apologize.

Heading through the galley, he pulled the door to their quarters open. The amber chemlights lit the small room, showing that most of Varian’s equations on the walls were now runny and illegible due to moisture damage. Between the bunk beds, Hugo’d set up a chair sitting in front of a contraption comprising of several mirrors on hinges. With his back to Varian, Hugo had a straight razor in his hand, shaving the back of his head using reflections of reflections to see what he was doing from all angles. His buttoned and padded jacket was off, and he wore a casual shirt with sleeves rolled up. He’d removed his gloves. His steady hands had long, elegant fingers. He brushed his short ponytail out of the way as he toiled on his hair.

He had the same straw blonde hair as the mermaid Varian couldn’t stop staring at.

Hovering in the doorway, Varian sank bucked teeth into his lower lip. Had they shared a kiss underwater? Had that been adrenaline? Gratitude? He didn’t know what to think. He hadn’t considered Hugo in terms of attractiveness before. Now, he supposed he could see the appeal of his tapered jaw and cunning, intelligent eyes. A narrow waist spread to broad shoulders, and his earrings glinted each time he turned his head.  

“You know I can see you, right?” Hugo said, causing Varian to jump. “Like, a lot of you. In all the mirrors.”

Summoning courage, Varian stepped inside and closed the door. “I… well, I wanted to say how sorry I am. You didn’t deserve that. Especially after rescuing us.” Nerves made him toy with his hands. “Things got out of hand, and I didn’t mean… I was stressed out and sensitive and I’m just… sorry.”

“I’d say you made it up to me. So, we’re even.” Hugo spun around to look at Varian, sitting backwards in the chair, arms resting over the back. The razor dangled from his hand. “Neat trick, though. With the, um…” Hugo hesitated before clearing his throat. “Breathing.” It was hard to tell if his face was red or if it was the light.

Varian swallowed around the lump in his throat. Something inside him screamed for Hugo to clarify what had happened during their swim to the surface. “Heh, yeah. Just something I thought of on the spot. I know it looked like, I mean, seemed like… I mean…” He gave a weary exhale and let his shoulders drop. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought of a boy like that.”

Hugo shrugged and went back to his hair. “I’ve only ever thought of boys.”

Everything clicked into place, and Varian’s eyes widened in understanding. The mermaids appeared female – that’s why Hugo had been immune while Varian and Yong acted like fools. Varian felt… some kind of way about this knowledge, a twist in his gut and a cloudiness in his mind. He couldn’t live in ambiguity about their maybe-kiss. “Hugo?”

“Yeah?” Green eyes met his in a mirror.

Varian’s confidence fled like birds scattering. “Your hair is dumb. And apparently difficult to maintain.” The insult was half-hearted, more filler than offense.

Hugo’s reflection smiled slyly. “It’s called style, Blue. Some of us have it.”

Chapter Text

“Filtration,” Hugo recited. “So… metaphorical clarity?”

Hunched over the notebook in his lap, Varian looked up. Hugo lounged atop his bunk on one side, head propped with a hand, turning the pages of Demanitus’ Tome back and forth, as if searching for clues, wearing a studious expression. One boot dangled over the side. The pose made his body seem exceptionally long and languid. From his own bunk, Varian didn’t immediately respond.

Hugo glanced at him, lens throwing an amber flare from the cabin’s chemlights. “What’s up?”

“I… nothing.” Varian flushed and dropped his gaze. “Sure, clarity.” Since failing miserably at the Water Trial, he trusted Hugo entirely now. The guy was consistently one step ahead, and obviously invested in their success. After all, Hugo would get the knowledge he wanted once they arrived at the Eternal Library. Varian wondered at the literature Hugo would browse. Their specialties were clearly different, though some of their talents did overlap. “Filtration,” Varian repeated, reading his notes. “My mom, well, she writes in theories. Donella pens retroactive reports. And Demanitus gives overall themes.”

Hugo slid one of Donella’s pages closer. “Seems like they left you a puzzle with a bunch of pieces missing.”

“More than a bunch,” Varian muttered. Air, his mother had written. Third Stage – Filtration. Controlled separation. Opposing forces. Class? Society? Koto knows the way Demanitus knows. It all happened before. “Donella’s note is the weirdest part. She’s usually more helpful and straightforward. But for this Trial she wrote, ‘The Wind carries it in its belly.’ No idea what that means.”

“It’s a quote from The Emerald Tablet,” said Hugo.

“Sorry, what?” Varian frowned at him in confusion.

A smug smile slid across Hugo’s face. “Really, Blue? Don’t you read? That’s a super old document. Talks mostly about how to turn stuff into gold – most alchemical papers do. But it’s also got something along the lines of…” His eyes roamed the ceiling as he tried to recall. “That which is Below corresponds to that which is Above, and that which is Above corresponds to that which is Below. And then, there’s something about, Its father is the Sun, its mother the Moon. The Wind carries it in its belly, its nurse is the Earth. It is the origin of All, the consecration of the Universe.”

Varian stared, mouth hanging. “You remember all that?”

Hugo tapped his temple. “I’ve got a good memory.”

“Man,” Varian sighed. “I wish Donella were here.”

Hugo’s demeanor brusquely switched from pensive to startled. He sat upright. “What? Why?”

“She just… seemed to have a better handle on things than my mom. If she’d have come with me, things would be so much easier. She’s already done these Trials and gained the totems. Why do we have to grasp at threads?”

“Maybe that’s the point. To figure it out on our own. What would Demanitus say about riding someone’s coattails?”

Varian leaned back against the warm wall of the cabin. “He’d probably say they weren’t very clever. And that they didn’t deserve anything in return.” He wrapped arms around his stomach and dipped his head, letting hair obscure his eyes. “And I need this to work,” he whispered.

“For a bunch of old books?”

Looking at his knees, Varian shook his head. “The books are fine, but that’s not what I’m after. Donella said there was a way to see my mom again.”

“Your mom? How long has she been gone?”

“Eighteen years.”

The ship creaked as it kept to its heading. Yong was on deck working on a project and could alert them if they needed to alter course. The wall vibrated slightly at Varian’s back as steam drove through the pipes.

His bedding sank, the shift in weight tilting him. He blinked up at Hugo folding his long legs crosswise beside him. “Blue… you’re taking a lot on faith. Doesn’t seem like you.”

Hugo’s proximity caused a burst of emotions to broil inside Varian. It manifested in a biting response. “Well, you don’t really know me, so who’s to say?”

Hugo exhaled, his face serious. “I’ve seen enough to know you ride an edge, whether that’s draping yourself in chemicals like you’re heading into battle, lying to somebody’s mom, or starting a fight. You’ve got thorns under that cotton candy exterior, Blue. And that’s what’ll get you through in the end. You’ll win out at any cost.”

His words chilled Varian, no matter the wall at his back. “No. Not at any cost.”

“Even if the Library held The Elixir of Life or Philosopher’s Stone?”

Varian snorted. “You don’t actually believe in those, do you?” Hugo seemed too smart to harbor such fantasies.

Hugo waved a hand. “No way. Absolutely not. You?”

“Please. I’m a scientist, not a romantic.”

A chuckle rumbled in Hugo’s chest. “You sure about that?”

Heat spread up Varian’s neck and face.

The succession of deep booms caused the ship to shudder. Hugo was out of the cabin before Varian’s feet hit the floor. He grabbed his alchemy belt and followed. Most of the orbs had been replaced, the corrosive Last Resort being the only original to remain. He headed towards the shouting.

“I didn’t do it in the lab!” Yong vowed from the foredeck. “It… well, it stuck and just kept going.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Hugo thundered. “You’re gonna get someone killed fooling around with this!”

Thick cloud cover added to a dreary day, grey and gusty. Keeping his promise, Yong’s explosion had happened on deck, away from the guts of the ship. One side of the foredeck had charred, and some of the railing was blown off in small sections, looking as if someone had taken bites out of it. Yong’s tunic was singed, and Ruddiger shook a puff of soot from his fur. “What happened here?” asked Varian.

Hugo rounded on him, finger waving close to Varian’s nose. “You! You’re the one that encourages this!” He looked truly unhinged, teeth bared, tendons tight in his neck. “He just had to come along and now we might plummet out of the sky at any moment or get blasted –”

Varian took a hold of Hugo’s accusatory finger and moved it aside. Hugo grimaced and stepped back. “Yong, what went wrong?” Varian calmly asked. He had left the boy unattended, true, but believed Yong knew to exercise restraint.

Yong jiggled a heel back and forth. “I think I made the sticky part too sticky, and it jammed in the rocket's break.”

“The sticky part?”

Yong lit up, incident set aside. “I’ve been refining a combustive compound that sticks to a surface and lasts, like a whole bunch of crackers going off one after the other. And I’m gonna name it after my hero – Varinium!”

Varian gave an awkward blush at the praise as Hugo scoffed, “Because it’s highly volatile and explodes at the slightest agitation?”

Varian snapped in his direction. “I do not –”

“Yeah!” Yong shouted.

“Yong!” Varian cried in offense.

“Oh,” Yong muttered. “I guess that sounded kinda bad.”

Hugo raised a notched brow.

Varian swung moment to moment between liking Hugo and finding him insufferable. He stewed, wondering if he was right. Often, Varian did feel like contents under pressure, ready to pop. But he’d gotten better at dealing with it.

Hadn’t he?

The sound of Hugo’s cry when he went overboard played in Varian’s mind. His gaze drifted over the ship’s side in memory.

Koto was devoid of color, its sky muted, ground parched and cracked below, no foliage or flowers garnishing the landscape. The three of them were lucky to be in the air. Travel and trade was forbidden in landlocked Koto – nothing in, nothing out. No spices from Bayangor. No seafood or salt from Neserdnia, no innovations from Pittsford, no produce from Corona. Varian found it hard to imagine why a kingdom would choose isolation. No one visited the Dark Kingdom because there was nothing there. Koto remained a mystery.

“Soooo,” said Yong. “Any handy dandy ideas on how to find an inscription out here?”

“One you’ll both promptly ignore?” asked Hugo.

Varian wanted to kick him. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to the scenery. No signs of life or human structures marred the badlands of Koto. The soupy cloud cover thinned, and weak slivers of light tried to punch their way through. In the distance, something glinted, a single sparkle lasting a quarter of a second. “There!” Varian pointing. “I saw something!” He whipped the compass out. The needle wiggled in the direction of the flare. “We need to land.”

“Prometheus doesn’t really land,” Hugo explained. He gestured out at the barren earth. “And there’s nothing out there to tie off to.”

An idea clicked on in Varian’s brain. “Just lower us. I’ll take care of that.” Minutes later, Varian and Hugo stood on Koto soil, securing the end of the mooring line in a small hill of amber. “Well,” said Varian, shaking the last drop of solution from its flask. “I hope we don’t need any more of this, because we’re out of the necessary components.”

Yong hopped off the end of the chain ladder. “Can we restock?”

Hugo frowned at Koto’s flat earth and empty horizon. “Once we’re out of this wasteland, no problem.”

“Buddy?” Varian called up at the ship. “C’mon!” Ruddiger refused to come down, chittering from somewhere out of sight.

The earth trembled under Varian’s feet. He grabbed Yong’s collar. His other hand knocked into Hugo’s – they’d both reached for each other at the same time. The tremor stopped. Varian hadn’t felt an earthquake in years, not since –

“This bodes well,” Hugo said, intruding on Varian’s thoughts. He’d slipped the dagger set from the weapons’ rack into his tall boots, short hilts poking out. “One kingdom is volcanic, another rife with sea monsters, and now we get to ride The Tectonic Plane Attraction.”

Varian let go of Yong and checked the compass. “This way,” he said, taking the lead. They walked in silence for a while, Varian watching the needle on the compass and where he put his feet, avoid gaping cracks in the ground. Someone snagged the back of his shirt. “Blue,” Hugo whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his back. “That’s a person out there.”

Varian pulled his head up and squinted. A distorted shape bobbed in the distance. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The humanoid figure had the bearings of an angel, flowing skirt and two tall items that jutted over each shoulder like wings.

Since the Water Trial debacle, he’d learned not to trust appearances. He lowered the compass and reached for an alchemy orb. “Hey! You!” he shouted. “Stay right where you are!” Hugo stooped to pull the daggers. Yong’s hand hovered over his firecracker stash.

“You three must be a certain shade of stupid to be wandering around at this time of day,” the angel said, and kept walking towards them.

The boys glanced at each other. Within moments, the figure stood before them, not an angel, but a girl. A girl carrying a lengthy spear on her back, along with a rolled travel pack. She had a dark complexion and wore a blue dress with a gauzy overlay, fancy in contrast with the fractured ground she stood on. Her gold eyes were shrewd and wary.

“Then why are you out here alone?” Varian countered.

“Because no one else would go. ‘Scuse me.” She wove between them, knocking Hugo’s shoulder with her pack.

“Watch it,” Hugo snapped, angling his daggers.

She twirled, skirt swishing. In a flash, the spear was in her hands. “Watch yourself, stranger,” she warned, the point of her spear rock-steady at Hugo’s throat.

Another earthquake rolled underfoot. Varian felt off. Koto was landlocked, with little reason for seismic activity. “None of us should be out here,” he consented. “Not with these earthquakes.”

“The quakes don’t do much anymore,” said the girl. She glared at Varian. “Mind your minions before they make another, graver mistake.”

Varian moved his hand away from his alchemy belt. “Yong, Hugo… stand down.” Yong followed suit.

Hugo took his time lowering the daggers, staring down the spear, boring holes into the girl with a blazing scowl. “Stand down,” he mimicked. “Who died and made you Captain?”

“Demanitus, I guess,” Varian retorted. “Since I’m the one with his journal.”

“The journal that’s on my ship.”

“It’s my quest!”

“That I’ve spent the entirety of rescuing you!”

“Does literally no one care about the spear?” the girl asked blandly, its point still trained on Hugo. “If not, I can put it away.”

Yong raised his hand. “I care. I don’t like watching people fight.”

His words hit Varian right in the gut, memories of his own impulses fresh. “Please, lower the spear. Hugo, can you be… less?”

Eyes locked, Hugo and the girl parted, stowing their weapons. “Don’t know what you’re doing out here,” said the girl. “But you’d best make it fast.”

“Why’s that?” asked Yong.

“You don’t wanna be here past nightfall.”

“What’s your name?” Varian asked.

She opened her mouth, closed it, then said, “Nuru.”

“I’m Varian. That’s Yong and Hugo.” He pointed to each in turn. Hugo’s posture went ridged, and he stared at Nuru without blinking. “We’re looking for something. Maybe you can help us? I mean, it would kinda stand out, unless it was hidden, or too obscure for anyone to –”

“What are you looking for?” she asked, cocking her head. She had a cute mole on her cheek and a pin in the shape of a star in her short hair.

“An inscription. Maybe a riddle? Four lines that rhyme. Might be on the ground or part of a marker? A sign? Do you know of something like that?”

“Sure. Seen it plenty of times.” She shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the weight of her steel spear. “I can show you, if it’ll get us all moving.”

“You can?” Varian broke into a wide grin. “Oh, thank you! That’d be –”

“No need.” Hugo stepped between them. “We’re fine on our own. C’mon, Blue.” He yanked at Varian’s sleeve, snagging Yong as well, and started dragging them away.

“What are you doing?” Varian hissed in Hugo’s ear.

“Blue, she’s lying. She hesitated when she gave her name.”

Uncertainty brewed in Varian. But after the Water Trial, he needed to prove he valued Hugo’s judgement. A thief would know a liar, right?

“Sorry,” Varian yelled over his shoulder. “But we’ve got this.”

“Wrong choice,” the girl shouted back, and continued on her path.

The three boys spent hours roaming the splintered ground. The wind picked up, causing a hazy sandstorm that battered them, blotting out a good portion of daylight. Varian and Hugo pulled their googles on. Yong used Varian’s kerchief as a face shield and held on to the back of Varian’s belt. “I think we’re going in circles,” Yong said.

Varian cast a worried glimpse at the compass. Its needle repeatedly swung forward and backward, as if it couldn’t make up its mind. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Toldja the compass was broken,” Hugo said into the storm. “This is pointless.”

“You’re right,” Varian sighed.

“Can I get that laminated?” Hugo’s form looked blurry amid the vortex of sand. “Better head back before we lose the light entirely.”

They stuck close together on the laborious trip back to Prometheus. Every so often, the ground shook, making them stumble. As time stretched on, Varian’s heart sank. What if he’d led them too far into the wastes of Koto? What if they never found the ship? What if he ended up like his mother, infinitely lost on this quest? “I’m sorry, guys.”

“For what?” asked Yong, still latched onto Varian’s belt.

“For dragging you two along. This should have just been me. My success or my failure. I didn’t have the right to put anyone else in danger.”

Hugo stopped and turned. He looked ridiculous in his spiked googles. “Okay, first off – I’ve been with you from the start, even if you didn’t see me. Second, you didn’t make us do anything. We made our own decisions. Third, we’re almost halfway done with what Donella and your mom accomplished. So, ease up on the negativity. That’s my lane.”

Behind his goggles, Varian narrowed his eyes. “Half?” he repeated.

“Yeah, they only did five Trials, not all seven.”

“How did you know that?” Varian was certain he hadn’t mentioned it.

Hugo threw his arms wide. “Clairvoyance? I don’t know. Must’ve read it in the journals earlier.”

Sand pummeled Varian’s eardrums, giving him a headache. “Yeah… I guess so…”

The sun touched the horizon. Almost like magic, the sand ceased blowing. Yong pulled the kerchief down. “I see the ship!” he shouted, pointing. Sure enough, it hovered where they’d left it, still tethered to the amber, the chain ladder swaying in the gale's wake.

Since they couldn’t dissolve the amber, Hugo had to cut the line with a dagger. The three of them hurried up the ladder. Ruddiger scampered around them in an excited circle. “Hey, bud,” Varian greeted. “You hungry? Me, too.” They’d spent nearly the entire day wandering around Koto. Hugo took to the helm, sending the ship into a vertical ascent, as Varian and Yong walked to the galley, shaking grains of sand from their clothes.

Once they reached the galley, Ruddiger wove between Varian’s ankles, nearly tripping him. “Ruddiger, calm down. We’ll have food in a sec.” Ruddiger stood up on his hind legs, chittered long phrases at Varian, and then banged into the door leading to their living quarters.

At the noise, someone sat up from Hugo’s bunk. “Took you long enough,” said Nuru. She held up Demanitus’ Tome. “Why is this open to a page that says, In this stage, we choose to experience our anger, frustration, or disappointment towards another or ourselves?” She lowered the book. “You boys on some kind of self-help retreat?”

Chapter Text

“What is she doing here?” Hugo hollered at the entry to the galley. Inside, Varian, Yong, and Nuru sat on various crates and barrels eating dumplings.

Nuru and Varian exchanged a look. “We’re going with her,” said Varian, pointing at her with chopsticks.

“And why in the world would we do that?”

Nuru swallowed her mouthful. “Because you’ll have to go to the palace.”

“What palace?” asked Hugo. He gestured out the door. “There’s nothing out there.”

“Because it’s underground, windbag,” Nuru bit back, setting her bowl in her lap. “The quakes are bothersome, but the real danger is from above. S’why you’d better get this ship someplace safe before nightfall. And I can show you where.”

“That would be great, Nuru, thanks,” said Varian. They were lucky to have found a local.

Hugo went stiff. “Nerd. Outside. Now.” He stalked out of the galley. Varian popped one last dumpling into his mouth before apprehensively following. Outside, the murky twilight sky was tinged with purple. Hugo turned livid eyes in Varian’s direction. “I agreed to the kid, but we’re not taking on one more.”

“She knows the land.”

“I don’t care.”

“Once night falls –”

“Blue, you’re not listening –”

“– something going to happen that we’re not ready for, but she –”

“I can’t do this! Not with a team!” Hugo looked openly fearful, the same as during the Water Trial, chest heaving shallow breaths.

Varian took pause. They already were a team, weren’t they? But Varian made all the decisions while Hugo and Yong picked up the pieces. With a pang, Varian realized he wasn’t a very good partner. Donella had been the one to ground his flighty mother. Perhaps he needed the same weight.

“Varian, your ship is incredible!” Nuru praised, joining them. Yong stood next to her, holding a bowl. Hugo fumed, frame puffing up again. “From the ground is one thing, but in the air? It’s all I’ve ever dreamt of.” Nuru wove along the deck, inspecting the helm and the along the railing. “Steam-filled envelopes, meaning there’s a boiler aboard. A balance system within the hull – I can feel the ship right itself against windshear. Motorized thrusters. Canvas rudder controlled by a standard wheel. What did I miss?”

“How do you know all this stuff?” Varian asked. The parched earth of Koto didn’t seem like it harbored much technological advancement. Then again, Demanitus had obviously spent time here, and he didn’t pass through regions without leaving his mark.

“The palace has a vast library,” she responded.

“That’s where we’re going!” Yong said. “A big ol’ library!”

Hugo stamped his boot. “It’s not his ship!” Wound up, he turned on Varian. “That’s the only reason you have me around! I’m utterly disposable otherwise. You’ve already thrown me overboard once!”

Nuru blinked in surprise. “Wait… you threw him off?”

Varian put his hands up. “No, no, that was an accident!”

“It kinda wasn’t…” Yong mumbled.

Varian huffed. “Oh, c’mon –”

“You take things hard, Blue.” Hugo’s mouth twisted into an ugly frown. “And personally. I can’t be the first to pay for your temper.”

The truth of Hugo’s implication hit hard. Varian’s hands fell to his sides. “Nuru, it is his ship.”

“Great!” Hugo stated. “Does that mean one day someone will listen to me?” Yong shoved a bowl of dumplings at him. He stared down at the food. He’d spent all day wandering Koto with the rest of them and had to be hungry. “I… thanks, kid.”

With Hugo occupied, Varian divulged to Nuru, “I mean, yes, we are looking for Demanitus’ Library, but first we have to find totems, like keys, in order to create something called Prima Materia.”

“Demanitus had his own library?” Nuru yelped with glee.

“Yeah, he – wait. You know who Demanitus is?”

Nuru crossed her arms. “Anybody who’s read beyond a storybook knows who Demanitus is.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “Prima Materia. That’s kinda the end goal for alchemists and philosophers, right?”

“You’re pretty well-read for this being a sandy kingdom with no one in it,” Hugo said, polishing off his last dumpling and setting the bowl aside.

“Oh, we’re in it. Within it,” Nuru said, a reminder that the palace was underground. “Demanitus was a pretty big deal around here. That inscription you mentioned? It’s on one of the items he used two millennia ago here in Koto.”

Varian looked off to the side. Why would Demanitus have been here? There wasn’t anything noteworthy in Koto. Well… not now. But two-thousand years ago? Who knew.

“Would the royal family let us see it?” Yong asked.

“Um, no.” Nuru laced her fingers, curling her shoulders inward in a sheepish manner. “We’d, well… we’d have to break in and take it.”

Hugo leaned against the helm and pressed his fingertips into a temple. “So, what you’re saying is… heist.”

Nuru glanced at Varian, who shrugged. “I… Sure. Heist.”

“Excellent.” Hugo’s grin was wide as a marionette’s. “You’ll give me the info, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Hugo, you don’t –” Varian started as Nuru shouted, “No way you’re going into my palace alone.”

“Your palace?” Hugo repeated, grin retracting. “Look, who’s the professional here?”

“I could care less,” Nuru stated. “I don’t like you, I don’t want you in my kingdom unsupervised, and I don’t have to help you. So, good luck on finding anything without me.”

“She’s not wrong,” Varian added.

Hugo snorted over his shoulder. “Fine! You two. Not the kid.”

“Hey!” Yong exclaimed.

“No, he’s right, Yong,” said Varian. “This… isn’t the kind of thing I promised your mom. And if we’re deep in Koto, somebody has to watch the ship.” They were sliding into grey morality. He had reservations about removing a sacred item. “Nuru, we just need to see the inscribed item, not take it.”

“Blue, don’t you already have a bunch of his stuff?” Hugo mentioned. “What’s one more?”

“I need it!” Nuru exclaimed. “That’s the trade.” She walked to the wheel. “We have to move the ship, or nobody’s doing anything.”

Hugo elbowed her out of the way. “I’ll fly my own ship. Where to?” he asked, teeth together, nose wrinkled in distaste.

Nuru instructed Hugo’s flight. They traveled a short distance, then lowered down a ravine. Without Nuru, they never would have found the mouth of a cavern beneath the lip of an overhanging rock. And if Prometheus was a larger vessel, it wouldn’t have fit through the cavity and into the abyss within. Since the deck wasn’t lit, Varian and Yong stood on either side of the bow, each with a chemlight, shouting directions at Hugo as the blonde angled them with gentle, purposeful movement, avoiding rock features. “That’s good!” Nuru called. They tied the ship off to an overhead stalactite. Suspended in the air, they could hear the periodic rumble of earthquakes around them.

The group retired for the night. Nuru took the bunk above Hugo’s. “Don’t step on me on your way down,” he grumbled, hanging his glasses on their peg.

“Only on purpose,” she vowed.

In the morning, Yong made hotcakes in the galley with Ruddiger as the others discussed plans in the cabin. “Koto’s been cut off for a long time,” Nuru explained, sitting beside Varian on his bunk. She’d changed entirely, ending up in Yong’s spare clothes, a long yellow tunic and pants, the waist cinched in by Varian’s Dark Brotherhood belt, and his orange kerchief covered her hair. “People will notice strangers. So, in-and-out is the best course.”

“What do we do about the earthquakes?” Varian asked. Doing anything suspicious while dealing with the earth moving was multitasking on a level he didn’t enjoy thinking about.

Nuru waved away concern. “Oh, they don’t penetrate below ground.”

“They don’t… what?” Varian repeated in disbelief. What other options were there?

“The quakes originate elsewhere. It’s fine.”

“Are we doing this, or do we live here now?” Hugo said, sitting on his bunk with his back against the wall, legs out and crossed at the ankles in front of him. “Numbers. How many doors?” he asked, all business.

“Doors?” Nuru asked in confusion.

“Yeah, doors. External and internal.”

“A set of entry doors lead in from the street. Guards patrol the inner corridor.”

“How many guards?”

“Two pairs. Four total. There’s a branching pathway –”

“How long?”

“The pathway?” Nuru frowned at Varian, who shook his head. “Why does that matter?”

“Because it matters. Who’s running this?”

“I don’t… maybe fifty yards?” Nuru guessed. “Then, a smaller door with an internal latch bar.”

Varian sat straighter. “Wait. Internal? Like, from inside?”

Casually, Hugo rubbed the fingertips of one hand together. “How heavy is the bar?”

“Not very, because –”

“Because there are more guards inside,” Hugo said, pinning Varian with his eyes. “That’s how it locks internally, Blue.”

“Don’t hurt anyone,” Nuru said, glowering at Hugo. “I mean it.”

“Not my style,” Hugo said in dead seriousness.

Varian snapped his fingers. “My sleep dust. Knocks people out for a few hours.”

Hugo grinned approvingly. “Blue, you did do time after –”

“We’re not discussing that!” Varian practically yelled.

Nuru peered nervously at both of them. Hugo separated his hands. “Look like you found the right band of felons,” he told her. “Say, do all people from Koto know this level of detail, or are you special?”

“I’m… my job is in the palace.”

Hugo’s eyes darted to Varian. “Uh-huh.”

She’s lying, Hugo had said. Well, Varian was guilty of omitting, and Hugo existed as a mystery.

“I’m not lying,” Nuru declared at their hesitation. “My family has been in that crumbling, subterranean citadel for generations. They won’t leave. I’m trying to find a solution, so that everyone can stay in Koto and not have to live like badgers. You two are the outsiders here.”

Hugo extended his hand to her. “So, I guess we all keep our secrets for now.” Though loathing twisted her lip, Nuru leaned forward, and they shook on it.

They bid Yong goodbye and climbed down the chain ladder. Nuru led them through crevasses in rocky outcroppings, Hugo holding his red chemlight, Varian with his green. The ground dipped, and they walked down, down, down into the kingdom. Just as Varian was beginning to have doubts over their route, the ground evened, walkway widening into not just a clear path, but a stone-laid road.

The cavern before them opened up, revealing a township with buildings up to three levels tall. It was midday in the capital, with people going about their lives. The streets weren’t exactly busy, but the three of them stuck to the outskirts. Dots of blue-green light decorated the rocky ceiling, forming constellations corresponding to those in the real sky. Koto’s kingdom had the effect of walking around on a moonless night. “Are those… crystals?” Varian asked, staring up. They looked to be the same as the ones Demanitus used to power his devices.

“Yes,” Nuru answered, leading the way along an alley. “From Saporia, eons ago. They give off light and radiate enough energy to charge machinery for basic needs – water pumps, air circulation fans, and greenhouses.”

“Don’t they… ya know, run out after a while?”

Nuru guided them to a set of metal gates surrounded by more rock. “Oh, no. Saporian crystals are eternally charged.”

Varian frowned at the gates, one side adorned with a sun, the other a crescent moon. Something nagged at the back of his mind, just out of grasp. High above the gates, lit windows traced up the immense cave. “What’s up there?”

“The palace,” Nuru said. “Come on. Can’t just stand here like fools.”

Hugo looked both ways on Koto’s primary thoroughfare. A few people walked by with little regard, but the gates stood in plain view. “I need a distraction to pick this,” he said. Varian stepped forward, uncorked his chemlight, and poured a single drop over the lock, dissolving it clean though. “Or that works,” Hugo muttered, easing the lock off. One by one, they squeezed through and closed the gate behind them.

Behind the gates, they arrived at the junction of a passage, rounded like a weasel hole with a flat, earthen floor. Tunnels branched off from the gated section at hard angles, putting them in a blind spot. More of those crystals decorated the walls, each emitting a crystalline glimmer, like twinkling stars. Once inside, Nuru and Varian deferred to Hugo, who, with sharp eyes and liquid movement, was clearly in his element. He held a hand over his shoulder. Wait.

Footsteps crunched at either end of the passage. They hugged the wall and peered around a corner. The first pair of guards wore midnight blue armor adorned with yellow sashes. Each carried the same tall metal spear Nuru had back on the ship. They walked up the tunnel with their backs to the trio.

Hugo held out his hand, beckoning at Varian with curling fingers. Varian poured sleep dust into his palm. With long, bold strides, Hugo sidled up to the righthand guards, footsteps hitting the same rhythm as theirs. He slithered between them and snapped his forearms in an X, flinging a handful of powder at each guard. He danced out of range of their spearheads as they slumped. Varian rushed forward and he and Hugo both caught a guard before their armor hit the ground. None of it made more than a rustle.

Nuru came towards them. Hugo pointed at her, then whipped the finger behind him. Move here. She stepped over the sleeping guards and stood just beyond them. He brushed Varian’s arm and gestured with his chin to the left tunnel. With me. They shrank along the passage, hugging the wall. Footfalls padded the ground. Hugo hissed between his teeth. These guards were coming back from their circuit. The passage wasn’t long enough to do the same trick again. Hugo tapped Varian on the chest and at the corner the guards would come around. Up to you.

Hugo stepped away from the wall and into plain sight. “Oh, hey,” he addressed the approaching guards. “You see, I’ve got this problem –”

Varian wasn’t nearly as smooth as Hugo. He jammed his hand into the bag of dust and blew it just as the guards thrust their spears at Hugo.

Again, Hugo sprang out of the way. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, as the guards drooped. “Everybody in Koto wants to poke me with sharp things.” He and Varian eased the guards down. Hugo gave a quick whistle to Nuru. Coast is clear.

“This isn’t going to work inside,” Varian said, standing.

“I know.” Hugo turned to Nuru as she came over. “I’m still owed one distraction.”

Nuru’s face tightened, but she nodded. “I can do that. This way.” They went left, following her to a single door. It was carved in runes Varian found familiar. He spaced for a moment, trying to decipher the translation.

Hugo extended his collapsible wrench to its full length and switched the head for a screwdriver. He wedged it between the door and the frame and slid it upwards, flipping the internal latch up. “Spotlight’s yours,” he told Nuru. She pushed the door open and stepped through it.

After a few tense moments, Varian and Hugo looked at each other. No shouts from guards or Nuru. No noise at all. “Where is she?” Varian whispered in alarm. He walked through the door.

“Blue!” Hugo was at his side in a flash.

A sunken room spread out from where they stood at the top of a grand staircase. Masks, armor, figurines, and relics stood displayed atop pedestals. A variety of additional entrances and exits circled the bottom. Clerics paced around the room in dark robes with flecks of yellow that gave a celestial impression. They were directing children, pointing at the items and engaging in discussion. One of the children looked up, saw Varian and Hugo, and tugged on a cleric’s sleeve.

Now the shouting commenced as those present gathered, gawking up at the outsiders.

Varian gasped and grabbed Hugo’s shoulder. “The door!”

“The door?”

The entry door’s runes were the same language Demanitus used in his scrolls. “It said welcome! This isn’t a treasury. This is an archive. It’s public. The guards weren’t defending this. Those were palace guards.” His eyes raked the archive, seeing a figure dart out a lower entry unnoticed, something in their arms. “You called it. She lied.”

Hugo threw his hands in the air. “How many times do I have to be right?”

Chapter Text

The sprint back to the ship was perilous without a guide, Varian and Hugo running the cavern trail on memory, their chemlights bouncing over their chests. “She knew a lot about the ship,” Hugo huffed as they ran. “If she flies it out of here –”

“We’re sunk,” said Varian. Nuru couldn’t be too far ahead. Would Yong try to stop her? Probably not. He’d trust whatever she said, just like they had. His nerves roiled at the thought of a fraud in their midst.

Blessedly, the ship was still where they left it. They climbed the ladder at record speed, hearing Yong ask, “Didja do it?”

“I’ll say.” Hugo said, hauling himself on deck. He cranked the ladder’s recoil, cutting off an escape.

Nuru whirled, wide gold eyes clashing with Varian’s orange kerchief as a headband. She still held the object she'd taken. “Word will spread that you stole a valued item,” she warned. “And Koto is very good at covering up secrets by any means necessary.”

“The item we stole?” Hugo snarled. “Oh no, doll. We’re not taking the fall for you.”

“Nuru, why would you use us?” Varian asked. “Whatever the problem, odds are, we could have helped you.”

“I don’t know you!” she cried. “All my life I’ve been told that outsiders would destroy Koto if they came. You came. And with this ship! I thought that was my ticket out of here.”

“I don’t get it,” Varian said, shaking his head. “What could Koto possibly have that the world would care about? Who are you? Really?”

Nuru stood tall. “I’m Princess Nuru of Koto, second of her name, eldest child of the regents, and singular Analyst of the Ancient Texts. That’s how I know about ship mechanics and navigation. I didn’t want to trick you, but I didn’t know what else to do!”

Varian and Yong shared a sympathetic glance. “I mean, you could just ask for help,” Yong said. Nuru opened her mouth but said nothing.

“Ya know, you should have said First in Succession in your royal title,” Hugo mentioned. A small smile tugged at his face. “But’cha didn’t. You said ‘eldest’, meaning you don’t have much authority. So, if I call your bluff, that’s my right.”

Nuru’s gold eyes sizzled. “My kingdom is running out of stored resources. I can find a solution to building a better future but, despite being older than my brothers, I’m a girl. Because of that, I don’t stand to inherit the throne. And no one will listen. So, I have to do this on my own.”

Yong’s brow furrowed. “Well, that’s not fair.”

“No, hun,” she agreed. “It’s not. That’s why I won’t go back without answers.”

Hugo’s shoulders hunched in dissention. He slapped a hand against the helm. “Well, you’re not staying, so you’ve created your own problem. Off my ship.”

Nuru hung her head. “I… I’m sorry. I’ll get my things and go.”

“Best thing you’ve done all day,” Hugo said.

She passed Varian on her way to the cabin. “Do you also lie about the inscription?” he asked, spirits sinking.

“No,” she said in a quiet voice. She handed Varian the item she held. “Here. I thought I’d need it if I was going out alone, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” She walked into the cabin and closed the door.

“Jeez,” Hugo muttered, crossing the deck to release the mooring line. “The nerve. Yong, get set to raise the ship. We’re outta here.” Hugo took to the wheel and steered Prometheus out of the cavern.

Varian examined the relic she’d taken. It was a telescope, the metal tarnished with age, though the eye and lens appeared clear and well cared for. “She might not have known better. Koto’s been cut off since forever. Us showing up must have spooked her.”

This ship swung back into the ravine and began its ascent to the world above. It was already night outside. “I’m dropping her on the surface as soon as we rise,” said Hugo. “Don’t need her people trying to attack my ship from below.”

“Wait!” Varian ordered. “We need her!”

Hugo’s head snapped towards Varian. “What for?” Varian shoved the relic at him. Hugo turned the telescope in his hands, reading the writing that scrolled down the outside of the tube. Varian had already committed the inscription to memory, playing close attention this time.

Under Blanket of Night

They Battle for Ages

Fill a Bottle with Eternity

Where the War Wages

“Nice alliteration,” Hugo muttered, and handed the telescope back.

Nuru stepped out of the cabin, back in her original dress. “Nuru!” Varian called. “You said you saw this inscription before. Do you understand it?”

“Of course. I know the epicenter of that ‘War’ on the inscription. And I could guide you.” She put a hand on her hip. “If you trust me, that is.”

Varian frowned and looked at Yong and Hugo for their opinions. Yong shrugged. “You get ‘til the end of the Trial,” Hugo consented in a growl.

Nuru grinned. “Perfect.”

Above the ship, thunder rolled. They looked up at a night sky heavy with clouds. Ulla’s voice rang in Varian’s ear. “Go. The eye of the storm. You’ve felt it. You already know. My boy, the expert.”

He grabbed for the compass and flipped it open. “Expert?” he asked. “In what?” The needle pointed west.

Nuru glanced at Yong. “Who is he talking to?”

“Yeah, that’s his magic compass,” Hugo explained. “Points wherever it wants and worms its way into Blue’s ears. Perfectly fine, I'm sure.”

“It points to the next step,” Varian corrected, snapping the compass closed.

A flash of lightning lit the clouds’ belly. The boom of thunder took several seconds to roll in. Yong peered up at the darkened sky. “Those don’t look like rain clouds…”

“They’re not,” said Nuru. Her demeanor shifted to thoughtful intensity. “Under Cover of Night. We have to get above the cloud line to reach The Battle Grounds.”

“Guys,” said Hugo. “We’re in a metal ship… I mean, thankfully not a copper ship – we’ve covered that – still, a lightning storm isn’t the place to be.”

Nuru shook her head. “Lightning’s just a by-product. The real trouble is beyond the clouds.”

“What’s beyond the clouds?” asked Yong.

A whistling sound preceded a chunk of rock shooting through the sky. It streaked by Prometheus and slammed into the ground below, tossing a wave of dirt, sand, and rocks through the air. “Meteors,” Nuru answered. “Every night. Underground is the only refuge.”

“And here we are,” said Hugo, moving to the helm. “Hanging in the sky like an ornament.” The ship quivered as he sent power to the thrusters. “Which way am I going?”

Varian and Nuru pointed west. “That way,” they said.

The ship rose into soupy, cold vapor. There was no definition to the clouds, and no marker to lead the way. Every so often, a lightning flash highlighted meteors varying between the size of chickens to horses as they tore to Earth. Hugo yanked on the wheel to narrowly avoid collisions. “Can we outrun this?” Varian asked, coming to his side. It seemed a matter of time before Hugo reacted too slowly or had multiple obstacles to evade.

“Ship’s not built for that kind of speed,” Hugo shouted over the wind. “And I can’t even see. All we’ve got is steam and magnets. To move faster, we’d need some kind of energy source, or combustive, or –”

Varian grabbed Hugo’s arm. “I know just the thing!” He swung his head toward Nuru. “You seemed like you knew how a ship worked. Do you think you can fly?”

Nuru puffed with pride. “Theoretically, yes. I’m quite confident.”

Varian handed Yong the compass. “Stick to the heading!” he ordered. “I’ll be right back. Hugo, help me.”

Hugo surrendered the wheel to Nuru, Yong at her side as navigator. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned. He followed Varian to the lower deck.

The lower deck chemlights swung on their hooks as Nuru piloted through the meteor shower. In the lab, Varian began sorting ingredients, starting with Yong’s collection of explosive powders. “Start the burner,” he told Hugo. “And up the pressure. We have to do this fast.” 

With Hugo’s aid, it took little time to whip up his energy-releasing Flynnoleum compound to add to Prometheus’ mechanized thrusters. A dropper held the syrupy mix that would take a moment to react once introduced to a different property, such as the steel turbines within the thrusters. “I mean, of course, we’re assuming that the blast shoots out of the thrusters,” Varian blabbered, “and doesn’t just… ya know… blow them up.”

Hugo wore a worried expression. “How sure are you?”

“Uhhhhh. Eighty-eight percent?”

“Ever hear of going down with the ship?” Hugo muttered. He kicked a trapdoor open that led out to the bottom of the hull. It hung like a ramp to the thrusters. Stepping onto the ramp, dropper in hand, Varian stared down. The air was frigid and gusty. He couldn’t see the ground past the clouds. His idea suddenly seemed very stupid.

Hugo grabbed Varian’s free hand, adjusting his grip until he held onto Varian like a vise. Doubt creeping, Varian looked back at him. Hugo nodded with conviction. Emboldened, Varian edged further, leaning over open sky to drop his Flynnoleum mix into the thrusters.

One drip. Two drips. Shinning beads of green disappeared into the thrusters.

“Got it!” Varian shouted.

Hugo yanked Varian back inside, into his arms, supporting him. Wind whipped their hair through the open trapdoor as Hugo held onto him. Time decelerated like a pocket watch winding down. The two of them occupied an infinite bubble of space where Varian felt Hugo’s palms on his waist and drowned in the reverence expressed by green eyes.

The Flynnoleum reacted, and emerald smoke belched from the thrusters. Prometheus shot forward with the intensity of being launched from a catapult, tossing Varian and Hugo down. Turbulence rattled the ship and pressed them to the bottom of the deck. A wagon-sized meteor tore through one side of the hull and out the other, rending steel and wrecking the ballast system. Round weights from under the grid spilled into the sky over Koto. Without balance, the ship keeled wildly.

A severed steam valve shot a spray of scalding water. Hugo forced himself up on wobbly legs. He solved the leak with a glacial orb, turning the spray into a nonthreatening mist that dissipated as the pipe lost pressure. With so many gaps that could drop them to their doom, Varian and Hugo exited to the main deck, zigzagging as the ship rocked, holding onto each other’s sleeves. As the Flynnoleum wore off, the ship slowed, clouds rushing by with less force. The smell of burning rubber guided Varian’s attention. One of the steam-filled envelopes had a fist-sized blackened hole in it. “Lightning strike,” he uttered, and cracked an adhesive orb over the puncture to seal it for the time being.

“What a hot mess,” Hugo grumbled, jogging to meet Nuru and Yong at the helm. The two of them had crazy, bushy hair from the acceleration. Prometheus’ forecastle broke through the clouds. Black night greeted them, stars winking like welcoming envoys.

Varian peered past the ship’s stern. Meteors continued to fall behind them, filling the clouds with thunder and lightning as they passed through. The air around the ship seemed clear of danger. Varian mumbled Ulla’s words. “The eye of the storm.”

“Yeah,” Nuru said as Hugo activated buttons and levers at her side, compensating for the wreckage below. “The meteor showers don’t land on The Battle Grounds. Guess it’s a method of warning folks away.”

“Away from what?” asked Varian.

“Probably that,” Yong answered, pointing. Before them, a black mountain rose from the clouds, its sharp peak dotted with yellow lights.

“Then, is going toward it the best idea?” Varian wondered.

“That’s where The War Wages,” said Nuru, smoothing her hair down. “You wanna follow Demanitus’ instructions, or did we just take a joy ride for the fun of it?”

“No, I… yeah, this is the plan.” Varian frowned at the mountain. A hazy familiarity tickled the back of his brain.

With the loss of the counterweights, Hugo was stuck at the helm, manually controlling the inflation and reduction of each steam-filled balloon to keep from capsizing. He launched the fore-mounted grapple from its cannon. Its hooks sank into the pike, mooring the ship. The line retracted, pulling the ship closer to the mountain.

“Stop!” Varian yelled, comprehension slamming into his mind. Hugo stalled the line.

“What’s wrong?” Yong asked.

“That’s not a mountain. I mean, it is, but,” Varian stammered, “it’s so much more.” They were now close enough to see the mountain for what it was – a twisted spire of black rocks spearing through a strangling tangle of vines adorned with bright yellow flowers.

“We call it Star Bloom Mountain,” Nuru announced. She narrowed her eyes at Varian. “Why? What do you know about it?”

Clarity, Ulla whispered. Opposing forces. She and Donella completed the Air Trial. They both knew what this was.

Varian snagged Hugo’s arm. “What was the quote from the, uh, The Jewel Paper?”

“The Emerald Tablet?” Hugo recited again, “Its father is the Sun, its mother the Moon. The Wind carries it in its belly, its nurse is the Earth.”

Sun. Moon. Flower pollen carried on the wind. Rocks from the earth.

“Those vines… those are Sundrop flowers,” Varian said in a hushed voice. “Nuru, how long has this been here?”

“Since before my people knew how to build homes and plant. Before the written word.”

The history of the seven kingdoms unfolded.

That’s how Demanitus knew what precautions to take and the incantations that controlled both the Sundrop and the Moonstone. It all happened before. The kingdoms of Corona and Galcrest, now the Dark Kingdom, were far enough away from each other to take significant time to react. But a Sundrop and Moonstone in the region? The earthquakes must stem from the rocks straining against the crush of Sundrop vines. Meaning there was a Moonstone buried in the base of this mountain. The rocks had shot up in protection, fighting to ward off eons of encroaching vines that strung the flowers together.

Having grown up in Corona, and seeing what he had, Varian marveled at the two forces entwining, waging war in the absence of hosts.

Fill a Bottle with Eternity, Demanitus’ instructed.

“Sap from the Sundrop vines,” Varian murmured. No wonder Koto was so secretive. He felt as if they were about to pillage hallowed ground. “We can’t say anything about this. Ever.” Hugo, the bandit among them, quietly sized up the mountaintop and its golden blossoms. “Hugo!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hugo waved Varian’s concerns away like air. “Don’t. Got it.”

“Double got,” added Yong.

“Thank you,” said Nuru with relief.

“We need to tap a vine for sap,” Varian said. “Meaning, we have to climb that mountain.” He regarded his group. Controlled separation, Ulla’s notes read. They needed to split up. Hugo had to stay at the helm, and Varian wouldn’t wish a dangerous ascent on Yong. “It’s you and me, Nuru.” She nodded. “Yong, get me a flask and stopper from the lab. Be careful. It’s sort of a wreck down there.” To Nuru, he said, “We need a safety line.”

She winked. “On it. I know my knots.” She went to collect coils of rope from the deck.

Varian required something to cut through a Sundrop vine. He made his way to Hugo and crouched to pull a dagger from the blonde’s boot. As he rose, Hugo met his gaze. “Try not to mess up, okay?” said Hugo. It didn’t seem like an insinuation.

“I’ll do my best.”

Yong returned to hand Varian a globe flask and Nuru secured the tie line to the grapple’s cannon. If they fell, it wouldn’t be for long. The end of the line branched into two sections, one to go around Varian’s waist, the other around Nuru’s. They used the shaft of Nuru’s spear to slide across the mooring line. She used her spear to hook onto rock pikes and swing up, leaving Varian to scramble after her. The rocks were smooth and difficult to cling to. He had to snare vines in order to keep from sliding. “You good?” he called up.

“Yeah.” Nuru settled atop the flat of an angled rock and tugged at a vine. The Sundrop’s plants twisted so tightly around the rocks that they barely moved. She lowered her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Pass me the knife and the flask. You concentrate on holding on.”

“No argument.” Keeping one arm looped around a rock, he handed her the flask, then the dagger.

Nuru sawed at a vine and squeezed the severed ends into the flask. Yellow sap filled the vial, thick and radiantly colored. Gold light emanated from the cut portion of the vine. The light spread like water running out of a tap, circling the spire over and over, winding its way down until all the Sundrop vines lit up. Almost on reflex, they contracted tighter.

The rocks responded in kind by sending a tremor up the mountain. Jolted on her perch, Nuru dropped both the dagger and the globe flask full of sap. She screeched in shock. The flask looked like a round ball of honey as it fell from her grasp.

Varian’s hand shot out and caught it. For a moment, he didn’t move, stunned at his feat. He tucked it safely away. “Let’s get out of here. Now.”

Nuru looked frazzled but nodded. She stowed her spear in its holster on her back. “You ready? One. Two.”

“Three,” said Varian. They both let go of Star Bloom Mountain and fell. Their plunge was short. The tie line snapped tight and, slowly, hand over hand, they pulled themselves back up to the ship. As he hauled himself, Varian found himself envious. Nuru had gotten this totem. When would he get to handle a Trial alone?

Once on board, Yong retrieved Nuru’s spear and took the flask to be stowed in Varian’s pack with the organic, seaweed-like hair from the Mermaid, and the glob of hematite. “Well,” said Varian, slipping the rope off. “At least we know the reason why Koto’s got such tumultuous weather and odd phenomenon. The rocks and vines upset the region’s balance. It’s all lunar pulls and sparking the supernatural.”

“Yes,” said Nuru, shedding her own rope. “That wasn’t the debate. My question is on how to stop it.”

“Seems like you’d have to warp the composition of the rocks in order to find the actual Sundrop and Moonstone within and unite them. Might take generations to get through the entire mountain. Difficult, but not impossible.”

Nuru sagged, looking like someone had punched her in the gut. “We don’t have the resources to do that!”

“Corona does,” Varian said.

“Pittsford does,” Hugo added from the helm. He eyed the Sundrop flowers. “For a price.”

Varian shot him a dirty look. “Then I offer on behalf of Corona. No cost.”

Nuru gasped and grabbed him in a tight hug. “Thank you!” she said. Hugo scowled.

Varian’s adhesive wasn’t airtight or long-lasting. Slowly but surely, Prometheus was losing altitude. Eventually, the ship would go down. If they turned back, they’d be stranded in technologically defunct Koto. “Hugo, what about the ship?” Varian asked. “Do we make a run for Ingvarr? That’s the next kingdom over.”

Hugo stared at Nuru and hissed, “It’s gonna look like we kidnapped the princess.”

Nuru brightened happily. “Another reason for me to stay.”

Hugo looked at Varian and pleaded with his eyes, shaking his head. Varian’s heart divided. “Sure,” he told Nuru. “We need all the help we can get to fly through the storm again.”

Nuru practically skipped to the wheel in excitement. Yong reappeared and took out Ulla’s compass. Hugo remained at the helm, working without speaking or looking directly at anyone.

Not for the first time, Varian knew he’d let someone down.

Chapter Text

The weak dawn gave just enough visibility to watch the green fields of Ingvarr rush to meet them. A rough jolt trembled through Prometheus as its prow ran aground, the keel ripping through turf. It skidded before flopping to one side and laying still.

The group collected their belongings – Yong with a bulky sack bigger than he was, Nuru’s spear and telescope, Varian and his pack stuffed with the books. “Where’s Hugo?” Varian asked the others, Ruddiger on his shoulder.

“Boy couldn’t wait to get away from us at the helm,” said Nuru, spite clear in her voice as she and Yong clambered down the side of the ship, using the slack chain ladder as they would a rope. “Probably sulking.”

Varian and Ruddiger looked at each other. “Hang on.” He shook Ruddiger off and the raccoon raced down from the deck, leapfrogging off Nuru and Yong’s heads before reaching the ground. They’d come from the cabin, so there was only one place Hugo could effectively hide.

The floor of the crumpled lower deck tilted, forcing Varian to walk funny to keep from sliding. He found Hugo near the workshop table. The racks of minuscule gears and ornamental metalwork were mostly empty, contents blown out through gaping holes over Koto. Hugo sat on the floor, using his collapsible screwdriver to attach two pairs of wings to a metal dragonfly’s body, muttering to himself. “She’s gonna kill me.”

“Who are you talking about?”

Hugo’s head snapped up, spine stiff as a board. “I – she, she, as in the Prometheus,” he said with grandeur. “Ships are referred to in the feminine sense. Pff, everybody knows that.”

“Okay. Well… it’s time to go.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t rush me.” Hugo wound the dragonfly’s head, same as Varian saw before. He released it, the four wings beating as it darted out the tear in the ship's side.

“I thought you only made those when you couldn’t sleep,” Varian said, watching the creation flutter off into Ingvarr.

Hugo shouldered his satchel bag. “I make them when I’m stressed. And I’m stressed.” Rather than go up and descend on the ladder, he slipped out the gap and landed on the ground with barely a thump. He marched off, keeping his back to Varian.

Varian blew a sigh and followed. His landing was far less graceful. He limped to meet the others, ignoring the pain in his knees. Varian took the lead, compass pointing southwest. Ruddiger crawled back onto his shoulder, and Yong and Nuru walked beside him. Hugo wandered off to one side, far as he could be without losing sight of them.

After the bleakness of Koto, Ingvarr seemed optimistically colorful, with vast green fields, lush fruit trees, and blooming wildflowers. Wisps of clouds danced across blue skies. The air smelled damp and earthy, like freshly churned soil.

In the nearby brush, a voice whispered, “See? They’re aliens.”

“No way,” a second voice answered.

“Uh-huh. That one’s got crazy, space hair!”

Nuru signaled, and she, Yong, and Varian backed together, forming a protective cluster. Ruddiger leapt to the ground, fur bristling.

“You made them mad!” the second voice said.

“Shh! They’re gonna signal for the – Agh!” Both voices shouted as Hugo came up from behind and plunged his hands into the brush. He pulled two red-headed children from the vegetation. One promptly kicked him in the knee, the other threw a handful of powder in his face. He dropped them and they scrambled away. Hugo collapsed in a sneezing fit.

“Sorry!” a broad-shouldered teenage girl burst through a thicket and snagged one of the children, the boy, by the back of his shirt. “Verne, give it! Give it!” she said, shaking an open palm.

“But Carroll –”

“Now!” The other child, a girl in pigtails, pried a vial from her brother’s hand. “Thanks, Jules,” Carroll said, taking it. She popped the stopper and blew another handful of powder at Hugo. His sneezes stopped. “Sorry, mister. We’ve been looking for them since breakfast.”

“We?” Varian repeated, as Hugo joined their little group.

A spectacled boy, maybe twelve, crashed along the same path as his older sister. “Oh!” he said, straightening. “You found them.”

A second girl, a little older than him, followed. She crossed her arms and scanned the four travelers. “Lemme, guess. Vampires,” she said. “No. Werewolves.”

“Aliens!” the twins shouted.

As she looked at Varian, the stout girl’s face pulled into a quizzical expression. “Could be an alien. Explains the weird hair.” Varian clapped a hand over his teal streak, feeling like an animal under scrutiny in a pen. She scowled at Ruddiger. “And what’s with the rat?”

“Seriously?” Varian said, astonished. “Has no one outside Corona ever seen a racoon?”

Carroll punched her sister in the arm. “We keep trying to install Shelley with a filter. And keep failing.”

The twins pulled on the boy’s arms. “Wells! A ship fell from the sky!” Jules said. “And they came out of it!”

Verne exclaimed, “They’re extra... extra… extraterrarium!”

“Extraterrestrial,” a man corrected. “And I’m doubtful that’s the case.”

The kids stopped chatting and grouped up. The man was slim, with a long apron and modest glasses. He and the children all shared the same red hair and bright blue eyes. A heavyset woman with a dark blonde bun huffed her way towards the family. “Goodness!” she said, bending to catch her breath. “You two gave me such a fright! I swore we’d find you in a ditch somewhere!” The twins gave each other guilty looks.

“Ingvarr doesn’t have ditches,” Wells pointed out.

“Or decent roads,” Shelley said. “Just dirt paths and game trails.”

“I apologize for the hubbub,” said the father. “The twins through they saw a ship crash, but that’s –”

“Yeah!” Yong pointed, his large bag almost tipping him over. “It’s right over there.”

“Yong!” Hugo interceded too late.

Through the trees, Prometheus’ steel hull gleamed in the sunshine. The father stood in silence for a moment, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “I… I see.”

“We were on a quest,” Varian started explaining. “But then there were meteors, and we couldn’t really see, and things went bad and, well, we did crash.”

“Fascinating. Is your vessel electric?”

“It’s mostly steam,” Nuru explained. “With a magnetic motor.”

“Wow,” all the kids breathed.

“Well,” the mother said, putting hands on her hips. “It’s not doing any good laying there like a clubbed rabbit. Seems you’re in need of repairs and a place to stay during.”

“I can do it myself,” Hugo said, starting to fume. His shoulders were tight and his mouth a straight line.

Varian stepped in front of him, a relieved smile brightening his face. “That’d be great. Is there a local blacksmith we could start with?”

“Feh,” Carroll waved her hand. “We can do better than any village blacksmith. You’ve found yourselves in the presence of geniuses!” She clasped hands behind her back and took a more demure posture. “And by that, I mean my mama and pops.”

Her mother gave her a pat on the back. “Don’t let the kids fool you. They've forgotten more than we ever knew.” The seven of them started talking about how to move the ship.

As the family conversed, Nuru elbowed Hugo in the side. “Ow,” he yelped. “What?”

“Look at this,” she said, gesturing with her chin. Both studied the family and then stared at Varian.

“What’s going on?” Varian asked, putting his hand over his hair again in defense.

Ruddiger perked up and raced between the kids’ legs, making them giggle. Yong laughed. “Hey, Varian! These guys look just like you!”

“Whoa. Yeah!” cried Wells. He took his chin in his hand and crossed the other over his chest, the image of concentration. “You could be my evil twin!”

Though Varian bucked at the phrase, he scrutinized the family. Shelley and her mother shared the same build. The father and the other four kids all had similar gawky frames, and heart-shaped faces topped with a ski-jump nose and a handful of freckles. Just like Varian.

His hand brought the compass up. The needle ticked back and forth, stopping for a second on each family member. Home, Ulla whispered in a warm tone. Her voice shifted, taking on a panicked quality Varian hadn’t heard before. I want to go home. Fade and fall. My son! Where is my son?

“Where did you get that compass?” the father asked, startling Varian from his reverie.

“I, um, it was my mom’s.”

The man’s twinkling eyes went haunted and hollow. He looked Varian up and down. “Quirin…”

“That’s my dad.”

“Bea?” the man called over his shoulder. His wife joined. “Bea, the compass. It’s Ulla’s.”

She stared at Varian for an awkwardly long time before sweeping him into a crushing embrace. “Oh, heavens, welcome!” she stated. She set Varian down. “Where are my manners? I’m Beatrice. This is Ulric, my husband, and I suppose… your uncle.”

Ulric gave a crocked smile and extended a gloved hand. “Good to meet you…”

“Varian! I’m Varian.” It felt like all his blood was rushing to his head. He shook his uncle’s hand and said, “That’s Nuru, Yong, and Hugo. It’s Hugo’s ship.”

“Are we really related?” the other kids asked.

“We’re related to aliens?”

“Awesome!”

“Forgive us,” Ulric said, releasing Varian’s hand. “But... well, we didn’t know you existed.”

Varian was quiet for a moment. He realized there’d only been a brief time between his birth and his mother’s disappearance. But why hadn’t his father said anything? Varian’s shoulders slumped, knowing the answer. Quirin had dissuaded his pursuit of alchemy since he was a young child. Knowing that he had other scientifically inclined relatives would have put an argument in Varian’s mouth. He tucked the compass away.

Beatrice broke the silence, shouting, “What are we all standing around for? Let’s get that ship in!” The family set to work, organizing a pulley system that would roll Prometheus along a track of logs to the family fields.

Hugo took Varian’s arm. “Hey,” he warned. “Don’t lose yourself. You don’t even know them.”

Bewildered by Hugo’s words, Varian said, “They’re family.”

“So, you just trust them?”

“Well… yeah.”

“They’re strangers!” Hugo’s gaze darted to Nuru. “C’mon. Back me up here.”

Nuru’s brows knit in concern. Varian worried she’d take Hugo’s side. She rolled her lips and lifted a shoulder. “They are going to fix your ship, Hugo.”

“They seem pretty cool to me,” said Yong. Ruddiger sat up on his hind legs and chittered in delight. Outvoted, Hugo reluctantly dropped Varian’s arm.

The seven family members hustled about, quickly assembling a crank with counterweights that could lift the ship onto the track. All the equipment looked like repurposed farming gear – plows, seed drills, threshing and reaping machines, wheelbarrows filled with rocks.

Hugo shook his head. “What a geeky family. I see where you get it from, Nerd.” He jumped when Ulric’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“So, you’re the captain,” Ulric said. “I’d say that makes you the expert on this boat.”

“I… yes,” said Hugo, sneering as if preparing for criticism or insult.

“Good!” Ulric scooped Hugo closer and walked him towards Prometheus. “You can walk me through what we’ll need.” Hugo glanced over his shoulder at the others but went voluntarily. The ship was rolling now, hauled along logs on a chain conveyor belt. The young cousins high-fived amongst themselves and dispersed, leaving Hugo and their parents to oversee transport.

Yong struggled under the weight of his lumpy bag. “Yong, what did you take?” Nuru asked. “The magnetized motor?”

“Naw, that woulda taken a long time to disassemble. I’ve been working on a bunch of stuff. Remember, Varian?”

“Yeah, I… of course,” Varian lied, and felt awful. He’d been stuck in his own head, deciphering his mother’s journal, and being distracted by Hugo. Yong had several projects that Varian failed to oversee. “You got anything ready to show off yet?” he asked with a smile, trying to mask his negligence.

Yong squirmed. “I… well… not yet. I just need to make some final adjustments.”

“Chemical or industrial?”

The three turned to find the younger cousins had rejoined them.

Carroll repeated, “Chemical or industrial? We handle stuff you build in the workshop behind the barn. Stuff you make – potions, medicine, adhesives, and lubricants – you make in the lab.”

Varian huffed a sigh of relief. “Oh, alright! You have an alchemy lab! Man, we sure need to restock on supplies.”

The five kids gave him a blank look. “What do you mean?” asked Shelley.

“Your alchemy lab,” Varian said. “We used up a lot of compounds during the first leg of the journey.”

“I still don’t get it,” said Well, scratching behind an ear.

Varian looked at Nuru. She shrugged. “The compounds you use in alchemical mixtures?” he said.

“What’s an Al Camel?” Jules asked.

A sinking sensation caused Varian’s limbs to droop. “You… you don’t know what alchemy is, do you?”

Verne tilted his head. “He’s using alien words,” he told his twin.

It was hard to keep disappointment from brewing. Of course, things were too good to be true. He’d found an extended family that were apt in technological endeavors, yet untrained in his area of expertise.

Nuru took one look at Varian’s face and turned to Yong. “Hey, Yong, can I see what’s in your bag of tricks?” she asked brightly, deflecting the conversation.

Yong glanced sideways at Varian. “It’s still… kinda a secret.”

“We can keep secrets!” Verne shouted.

“Yeah, right,” Wells mumbled.

Jules took a swing at him. He easily stepped out of her range. “Yes, we can!” she insisted.

Nuru gathered Yong and the twins. “C’mon, show us what you’ve got in there.” She led the younger kids off like the Pied Piper, Ruddiger chasing after. Varian made a mental note to thank her later.

“You still wanna see the lab?” Carroll asked Varian.

“Oh. Um, sure.” If nothing else, Varian could stock up on supplies for the ship, if not for his alchemy set.

The three older cousins led him to a freestanding laboratory sitting in a cleared field. Shelley said, “There’s nothing else around in case of, you know, explosions.”

“Yeah… smart.” Varian and his dad kept rebuilding their home after each failed experiment blew their roof off.

It was a perfectly serviceable laboratory, with burners, vials, even syringes. A large, spoked wheel lay on the ground as if used for seating. A few chains ran along the ceiling, possibly for hoisting sizable projects or moving equipment. But the ingredients on the shelves were nothing spectacular. Lacking were the unique powders and herbs from Yong’s family’s clinic, and the colorful and rare compounds Varian kept in Demanitus’ chamber.

Varian set his pack down and picked through the shelves, trying to hide his downcast expression. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He lifted his head and found he was alone, the cousins hanging around the doorway, talking about seafaring ships and theorizing on how Prometheus operated. Varian felt the tap again. His skin crawled, and his hand lowered, brushing over his alchemy orbs.

“Kids!” their mother called from the fields. “Come help the old folks work!”

“Coming!” Carroll yelled back. She turned to Varian. “You okay in here if we go?”

“Oh, yeah.” Varian forced a confident smile. “I know my way around a lab.”

The girls rushed out. Wells hovered. “Can you show me sometime?”

“Show you what?”

“The thing you were talking about. You seemed really excited.”

“Alchemy?”

“Yeah! That!”

Another tap, more urgent this time. “Wells… you better go.”

Wells’ face fell. “Oh… um, okay. See you.” He headed after his sisters.

The door slammed shut all on its own.

Varian whipped an orb from his belt. “Alright,” he told the vacant lab. “Show yourself!”

A figure came into focus as gloved hands clapped against clothing. The air shimmered as clouds of powder trailed into nothingness. Within moments, Ulric stood before Varian, shaking the last of the vanishing dust from his boots. “Well, we don’t have to worry about you being able to take care of yourself.”

“It’s you!” Varian lowered the orb. “I thought… Donella… she used the same powder.”

“Small wonder,” Ulric said, peering out a window. “It was Ulla’s creation.”

“It… it was?” It seemed as if Ingvarr was little more than somewhere to stop on the way to someplace interesting. That his mother had accomplished anything here appeared a long shot.

“I apologize if I startled you, but I needed us to be alone. I recognized the spheres you wear.” Ulric pulled a chain from the ceiling and ran its length through the spoke of the large wheel on the floor. He clipped it in place and tugged twice on the chain. The chain began recoiling, lifting the wheel, and revealing a round hole in the ground. “After you,” Ulric said. “It’s a short drop, I assure you.”

Varian frowned but slipped feetfirst through the opening. True enough, he almost immediately hit dirt. Ulric followed suit, and the wheel lowered above them. As the space darkened, Ulric reached out and batted the wall with an open palm. All around them, multicolored chemlights on strings jostled to life at the vibration. The underground cavity wasn’t large, but it was full. Rows and rows of brightly hued vials were tightly packed into grooves dug into the earthen walls. Bags of powders hung on garlands like garlic. “These are alchemy supplies,” Varian breathed.

“Old ones, yes.”

“But you don’t teach your kids how to use them.”

Ulric leaned against a dirt wall and sighed. “Bea and I teach hard science, not the mystical practice of alchemy.”

“It’s not magic,” Varian disputed. “It’s –”

“I didn’t say magic. But there’s a substantial leap between the supernatural and industrial development. That’s where alchemy lives. Magic used to rule the kingdoms – Zhan Tiri and Saporia’s collection of the occult held the world hostage. Then Saporia fell, Pittsford imagined the unimaginable, the Dark Kingdom evacuated, Corona had its own troubles –”

“I’ll say,” Varian muttered.

“The point is, the kingdoms changed. New over old. That’s how you paint, how you fertilize, how you move forward.” Ulric took his glasses off and cleaned them with his apron. “So, you’re an alchemist. What honing device do you use?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, magicians used wands for a reason. You shouldn’t be able to call on spiritual forces without a powerful connection to some type of magical object.”

“I… I don’t have anything like that.”

Without his glasses, his uncle’s gaze looked sharp, cautious. “You’ve been touched by something. It’s marked you.”

Confusion and fear nibbled at Varian. “What do you mean?”

Ulric placed his glasses back on. “Your hair.”

Varian raked fingers through the streak of teal at his forehead. “Nobody’s got this hair, huh? Not even a great-granduncle, or someone thrice removed?”

“Afraid not. It’s not natural or inherited. I’m not a superstitious man, but I know my facts. You came in contact with something.”

Varian mulled over Ulric’s words. He’d always considered determination as just another ingredient in the alchemical process. The automatons had needed a certain amount of… persuasion… to do his bidding. And, yes, transforming Ruddiger took some… bartering… with physics. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might be internally pulling from mystical sources. He shivered and ran fingers over the hanging sachets. “What did my mother use?” 

Ulric stood taller in surprise, then looked away. “I never saw. When we were children, we would just play at alchemy, pretend we knew what we were doing. I outgrew it. Ulla… she sought others that studied it as a practice. She met a partner in her pursuits and… everything changed.”

“Donella,” Varian ventured.

Ulric nodded. “This was their lab. A place where they could work without drawing the ire of those that didn’t understand.”

“This?” Varian asked. “This little hole?”

“No. This was just the stockroom. They used the lab above.” He crossed his arms and appeared wistful. “And it wasn’t always in a cleared field.”

“Explosions,” Varian said, echoing Shelley.

“Many. There’s a reason you haven’t seen any other homesteads in the area.”

Varian thought of Old Corona. Ulla had terrorized her village with ideas the same way he had. “My mom… what was she like?”

Ulric absently ran a hand over the rows of vials, making them clink. “She was… excited. Happy. Thrilled by the prospect of each day. People liked her, but… she was scattered. And occasionally heedless. Closer with her inventions than real people. I only know what I know because of her. She talked incessantly about her projects. Scared a lot of people who weren’t scientifically persuaded. Donella was the only friend I even saw her have.”

“Donella… she said the age of alchemy was ending.” After what she and Ulric told him, Varian felt like the last dinosaur, clinging to a world that was already over. Even Rapunzel’s hair was gone. He’d never witness magic on that scale again.

“If the two of them ever argued, it was about that. Ulla had big, bright dreams. Donella was more down to Earth.”

“My dad’s not really into the unknown, either. He likes things… well, steady.” Without a second parent, he did things Quirin’s way or on his own. Varian’s father taught him rudimentary defense, and it had stuck, but he didn’t find physical prowess as fulfilling as intellectual pursuits. “He and my mom… well, they seem like an odd match.”

Ulric laughed and clapped Varian on the shoulder. “Sometimes, you don’t pick who you fall for.”

Varian’s mind wandered to Hugo. The blonde’s wide, round lens made his eyes look bigger than they were, lending to an illusion of vulnerability and innocence. “You, um, you’d met my dad?” Varian asked, getting back on topic.

“Briefly. He came through Ingvarr after his exodus from the Dark Kingdom, looking for a new home. Ulla, always enthusiastic, left with him to see all seven kingdoms. Quirin though, wasn’t quite as inquisitive. They only went as far as Corona before settling down.” Ulric’s face turned serious. “Varian, I wish we’d… I’m sorry we didn’t meet sooner.”

“Would you have joined my dad in keeping me from alchemy the way you kept it from your kids?”

Ulric’s brows lowered.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that!” Varian backpedaled. “Everything I did was on my own, and I felt so alone doing it. If I could have had someone that at least understood what I was trying to do, well, it would have meant the world to me.”

Ulric closed his eyes. “I lost my sister to the world beyond Ingvarr. I’m not willing to risk my children or anyone else’s.”

“I don’t know if you’re ever ready to let someone go,” said Varian. “Even my dad wasn’t keen on me leaving Corona. But I was really proud of him for doing so.” Varian turned in a slow circle, drinking in the small storeroom. “This journey was supposed to bring me closer to my mom, following her last adventure.” He left out the hope that Ulla lived for Ulric’s sake. He didn’t want to wake grief in a man he’d just met. “But I’m not… I don’t know if I like what I’m learning. She and I seem… very different.”  

When Ulric opened his eyes, they were brimming with melancholy. “Ulla wasn’t simple, I’ll say that.” He stepped forward and took Varian’s arms. “Come on. We’ve been gone long enough.”

Varian glanced around the storeroom. “Can I come back down here to restock the ship’s lab?”

“All this belonged to your mother, so it’s yours.”

“Thanks. Thanks, Uncle Ulric.”

He was rewarded with a smile. “Of course.”

Once they put the wheel back and left the laboratory, Nuru ran up, the younger kids in tow. She wore a big grin. “Varian, wait ‘til you see what Yong made.”

“It’s not ready,” said Yong. “So, don’t go into the workshop, okay?”

Varian put his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep out.”

“We’re gonna help!” the twins shouted with glee.

“Not now, you aren’t,” said their mother. “Wash for dinner.” In the field behind her lay Prometheus. Sunset made the steel hull look as if it were made of gold. The three older cousins and Hugo climbed down from the slanted deck. Hugo seemed weary but proud, almost like he’d needed a hard day’s work to funnel his negative energy into something tangible.

Varian quickly learned that his Aunt Beatrice was an artificer, as his cousins’ homestead was stuffed full of items from beyond the seven kingdoms – bones and ivory from creatures he didn’t recognize, pottery with eccentric designs, figurines, things suspended in jars, paintings and tapestries covering every wall, a full museum within a household in the middle of nowhere.

During a noisy dinner around a crowded table, they talked about their families – Nuru and her younger brothers, Yong and his older sisters, and Varian’s experience being an only child. “And what about you, Hugo?” Ulric asked. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

In the silence that followed, everyone paused, utensils held in midair. With all eyes on him, Hugo’s ears went red, and he set his fork down. “I… well, you see…” His fingertips drummed nervously on the table. “I’ll be right back.” He stood and rushed out the rear door.

Beatrice placed a hand on Ulric’s arm. “Oh, dear, you made him uncomfortable.”

“Excuse me,” Varian said, setting his napkin down on the table. As he headed out the back door, chatter resumed within the kitchen, Nuru and Yong’s voices mingling with his family’s. It was dark outside, and it took some searching before he found Hugo around an extension from the main house, his back to the plastered wall, face hidden in his hands. “Hey… are you okay?” Varian asked gently.

Hugo pulled his hands away. There were no tears, but his demeanor was troubled. He shook his head and scowled. “Fine. Gosh. It was so loud in there I couldn’t even think.”

“Alright… and?” Varian pressed.

Hugo shuffled. He let the back of his head fall against the wall. “I couldn’t answer, because I don’t know.”

Remorse threaded through Varian. He realized how little he actually knew about Hugo. “I didn’t know, either. Sorry you got put on the spot.”

Hugo didn’t move, just stared up at the eaves. After a minute, Varian joined him. The plaster had bumps and itched through the back of his shirt. Hugo’s eyes darted to him, then away. His fingers traced the rim of a goggle lens, tip skipping over each spike. His mind looked a million miles away. “I don’t remember anything about parents or siblings,” Hugo confessed, voice devoid of emotion. “Maybe I’ve always been alone.” He wore a haunted, somber expression that didn’t suit him. “I do remember smoke, though. And screaming. And then I was cold for a long time. Being a kid, I was little enough to steal bread and fruits from under the market tables. After a while, though… I got too tall. But I was skinny, so some people – ya know, nefarious types – used me to get into places an overfed bandit couldn’t. I learned all the pickings – lockpicking, pickpocketing –”

“Nitpicking,” Varian added, jostling him with a shoulder.

Hugo’s head dropped, looking at the ground instead of the roof. “I don’t talk about these things. I… have a hard time trusting people.”

Varian was a little stunned. He’d been so preoccupied about whether to trust Hugo, he hadn’t thought about Hugo trusting others. “Well, if it means anything, I trust you.”

Hugo finally looked at him. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why in the world would you trust me? You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Varian countered. “Hugo… all I’ve seen is how you help us. I mean, yeah, there was the incident with the first totem, but that was, like, only a couple of hours. You’ve been there for us the entire rest of the time. I like you. I like being with you. So… of course I trust you.”

Hugo’s face drew paler. His eyes feverishly scanned the dark fields.

“Hey, you look a little nuts,” Varian said, concern mounting. “What’s wrong?”

Hugo moved towards Varian, cupping the back of his neck. His fingertips were warm. Sparks lit up in Varian’s veins, and his heart thudded. Was this the moment they’d kiss again, when it would be unmistakable? Hugo whispered in his ear, “Blue, don’t finish this quest. If you really trust me, trust me now. Go. Tonight. With me. We can just disappear, and no one will know.”

Taken back, Varian pulled away from Hugo’s touch. “First – huh? And second – I can’t do that. Yong and Nuru are part of this.”

“You don’t owe them anything.”

“I can’t just ditch them! Why are you saying this?”

Hugo drew to his full height, arms tight at his sides. “Blue, for once, I need you to listen to me. This isn’t going to end how you think it is. And... and I’m not going to be okay with that.” He swallowed and hung his head.

Varian was thoroughly confused. Was this about them separating once they found the Library and Hugo went back to his seedy life? Varian took Hugo’s shoulders. He stepped close and peered up, forcing Hugo to meet his gaze. “Don’t worry about what comes after. You’re brilliant to the point of being unbearable,” he assured. “You’ll be fine.”

“Always am,” Hugo mumbled.

“I mean it. Everything’ll work out.” Varian squeezed Hugo’s shoulders. “You’re gonna be really important one day, you know that?”

Hugo raised a hand to grasp Varian’s forearm. He looked on the verge of tears. “Thanks, Blue,” he said in a thick voice.

“Hey, we’re friends, right? This is what we do.”

Something in the air shifted between them. “Right. Friends.” Hugo dropped his hand and stepped away. “You go back in. I’m gonna check on the ship.”

“But it’s nighttime.”

Hugo had already turned his back, walking off into the field. A red glow appeared as he brandished his chemlight. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

A creeping apprehension took root in the pit of Varian’s stomach. Worried he’d pushed Hugo too far in ignoring his requests, he called, “You’re not leaving, are you?”

The light stopped. Hugo’s voice sounded tired. “No, Blue. I’d never leave you.”

Varian watched the light fade into the distance, unease gnawing at his insides.

Chapter Text

Varian awoke to the twins pulling on each of his arms. “C’mon! C’mon! It’s finished.”

He’d spent the night on the floor of Wells’ room in a nest of thick blankets. Nuru roomed with the girls, and Yong with the twins, who were trying to yank him up. Wells sat up in his bed, hair mussed. “What time is it?” he slurred.

“Sun’s almost all the way up!” Jules exclaimed.

“Let’s go!” Verne urged.

“Go where?” Varian asked, looking for his alchemy belt. “Give me a second.”

“The workshop!” They tore out of the room, yelling, “Nuru, it’s done!”

Varian rubbed at his eyes and stood. “They get up early,” Wells said, pulling covers over his head.

“I’ve noticed,” Varian grumbled, stretching. Within minutes, he and Nuru were dressed and being towed towards the family’s immense workshop by the twins. It housed a smithy, cranes, blowpipes and molds for glass, rows of materials – sheet metal, wires, screws and bolts, cables and conduits, buckets of loose switches and buttons – anything imaginable to create a wealth of contraptions.

“Guys!” Yong whined at the twins, clutching a long item wrapped in a tarp. “I was gonna show them after breakfast!”

“Nuh-uh,” Verne said, pulling Nuru. “Too cool.”

“Couldn’t wait,” said Jules. She gave Varian a shove towards Yong.

“Okay, okay,” Yong relented. He turned bright eyes on Varian. “I’ve watched how you toss those orbs at bad guys. Nuru’s got her spear, Hugo’s got his bow, I’ve got my crackers, and I thought, hmm, what if Varian could use his alchemy stuff at range? Well, I figured out how!” He whipped the tarp away with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

Yong presented a tall staff topped by a wide ring with several empty, round openings along its ridge and in the center. “Um, thanks,” Varian mumbled, taking the staff. “What is it?” He recognized the main rod as being the same brass pipe that Hugo had used to fend off the beasts during the Water Trial.

“The ring twists off,” Yong explained. “And you load your alchemy balls into the staff. I built a pressurized release into the pipe. You twist the top and bottom sections and, pow – you can send an orb flying super-fast, like, one after another.”

“Why does the top ring look funky?” Nuru asked.

“Well, the stuff Varian wears on his belt is bigger than the pipe’s width, so I thought he could put the important stuff on the ring itself.”

It only took Varian a moment to remove the orbs from his belt and affix them into the staff’s ring. Last Resort went in the center, glowing vibrantly green. He had to admit, the design was pretty cool. “Yong, I… wow... I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

Jules giggled. “You look like a wizard.”

“Awesome,” Verne whispered.

Varian’s thoughts deepened, pondering Ulric’s words in the storeroom about the link between magic and alchemy. During breakfast, the entire family gushed over Yong and the staff, which he brushed off as nothing. “That was just a gift,” said Yong. “I can’t wait to finish my own stuff.”

After the meal, Varian’s aunt, uncle, and older cousins went to work on the ship, accompanied by Ruddiger, who seemed to enjoy the commotion. Nuru supervised Yong and the twins, and Varian headed to the lab, where he could raid his mother’s storeroom in solitude and make some smaller orbs for the interior of the staff.

He found Hugo in the lab, sitting on the wheel, flipping through Varian’s journal. Hugo didn’t even look up. A relief Varian didn’t expect surged through him, though his gut tightened at the hidden alchemy surplus below. “When did you take my journal?”

“You sleep soundly. And with your mouth open.” Hugo raised his head. He made a skeptical expression when he saw the staff. “So, now you’re a wizard?”

“I’m not a –” Varian sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “What are you looking at?”

“New kingdom, new Trial. Or did you forget?”

“Hardly. But we’re down one ship.”

“Oh, so you need my ship in order to keep going?” Hugo cracked a smug grin. “What you’re saying is… I’m useful.”

A measured smile broadened Varian’s mouth. “Occasionally.”

“Hmm. I’ll accept that.”

Varian sat next to Hugo with the staff across his lap. “What did you find?” he asked, nodding at the journal.

“The usual mixed messages and non-literal notations. All three – Donella, your mom, and Demanitus –coded their work to a point where it’s almost useless to others. The only decent things we’ve had is our own intuition and that compass.” Hugo turned a page. “Boy, whoever comes next is gonna be grateful for the condensed notes in your journal.”

Varian's smile turned into a frown. “Who’s coming next?”

Hugo’s cheeks turned pink. “What? No, it’s just… ya know…” He shrugged. “For whoever looks for the Library after us. Like, four-hundred years from now or something.”

Varian gazed at his journal, imagining it as an archeological relic. “I guess…”

Conjunction is the fourth step in Alchemy, he’d written. The bonding of compounds. My mother wrote of connecting, building bridges, abstract concepts of the stage. Demanitus wrote about change, the transformation of one thing to another. These seem contradictory. Either something comes apart or it comes together. What am I not understanding? Donella’s note said, ‘The serpent is eternal’. A perpetual circle? Infinity???? A hint at the previous Trial – the eternal essence of the Sundrop sap?

“You seem a little lost in your notes,” Hugo commented.

“Yeah. I feel a little lost in general,” Varian admitted, clutching the staff.

A deep crack sounded from outside, followed by a whistle and a boom. Children’s voices cheered. Hugo and Varian looked at each other. “Yong,” they said, and rushed out of the lab, carrying the staff and journal.

They found Nuru and the twins looking out the workshop’s doorway. A neat circle of flame burned in the cleared field next to it. Yong stood in the center, a squat mortar cannon strapped over his shoulder. “May I present, The Ring… of Fire!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms out and jiggling his hands.

“Jeez, kid,” Hugo said, tucking the journal under his arm. “You’re lucky that didn’t come straight down on you.”

“It wasn’t luck,” Yong argued. “The powder cartridge breaks apart in equal directions after ejection. The burning fuel comes down in a calculated circumference, no problem.”

“Cool design,” Varian congratulated, then watched the flames subside. If he’d done something on this magnitude in Old Corona, he’d have set half the village aflame. Small wonder they hadn’t seen other families in Ingvarr – based on Ulric’s hints, the family’s experiments and inventions chased others away. It was generational, starting with Ulla. His aunt and uncle’s attempt at keeping their children engaged and inquisitive also left them isolated. They had each other, sure, but in a few years, the kids would want more. Varian understood that firsthand.

“Hugo, the journal?” Varian asked, as Nuru helped Yong unstrap the mortar. Hugo cracked the book open to the pages about the Earth Trial. Setting the butt of the staff on the ground, Varian leaned over to read. “There’s always something literal in the notes. Hmm. Building bridges,” he mumbled.

The twins jumped up and down. “There’s the Old North Bridge!” said Jules.

“Yeah,” said Verne. “It leads out of the seven kingdoms.”

“Connecting,” Varian recited. “A bridge that connects the seven kingdoms to the world beyond.” He fished for the compass and flipped it open. Yep. It pointed north.

“But’cha don’t wanna go there,” Verne warned.

“There’s a monster under the bridge!” Jules shouted. “The oldest monster in the world! It’s got no legs and huge teeth!”

“Oh, boy,” Hugo groused as Nuru and Yong joined. “More monsters.”

“The serpent!” Varian gathered, snapping the compass closed. “It’s not a metaphor. It’s a snake. Changing! Transformation! Growth! A snake sheds its skin as it grows. That must be the next totem!”

“Demanitus’ two-thousand-year-old pet snake?” Nuru said, skepticism on her face.

Varian mulled, “Well, could be that old if it’s an enchanted snake.”

Hugo’s eyes flitted from Varian to the staff and back. “More magic, huh?”

“Look,” Varian huffed. “I’m not into the whole sorcery-occult aspect of alchemy. I try to avoid anything that asks for that. It, well… it seems like cheating. But Demanitus clearly dappled in magic to achieve his goals, even collaborating with people associated in the dark arts to do so. I just… don’t want to go that route, okay? I’m not like that.”

Nuru and Hugo raised their brows at each other. 

“So, is that snake the bitey kind or the squeezy kind?” Yong asked the twins.

Jules said, “Definitely bitey.” Verne held his arms out in a V-shape and snapped them together, like giant jaws.

Everyone stared at Varian as if waiting for instructions. He squeezed the staff. His leadership had been questionable at best. The other three had stepped up when he hadn’t been able to complete a Trial on his own. He openly argued with Hugo, going against good advice and whatever drove the blonde boy’s actions. As an act of contrition, Varian opted out of being team leader. “Hugo, what do you think we should do?”

“Are you kidding?” Nuru and Hugo both asked, gawping at him.

Varian was aware of his own pushy, superior nature, and needed to let Hugo feel valued after repeatedly turning him down. “I think Hugo’s earned the chance to take the reins. He’s done a pretty good job of getting us this far.”

“Blue, I… thanks.” Hugo drew a deep breath and closed the journal. “Okay. Well, snakes shed their skins in one huge piece, so taking a section shouldn’t be too tough. But a snake den isn’t the kind of place to hang out. Gotta grab it and go.”

“What about the snake?” asked Nuru.

“Have to lure it out,” Hugo said.

“Using what?” Yong asked.

“Snakes are reptiles, and reptiles don’t like cold.” Hugo rolled one of his glacial orbs between nimble fingers. “So, we make that den an unpleasant place to be. Prepare for overkill. There are all kinds of snakes. We’ll know more once we see it. Might be simple, might not be. But I can’t imagine a snake got to be that old by being fragile.”

Impressed, Varian gave a grin. “That’s actually pretty sound. Good plan.”

“Really?” Hugo beamed at the praise before recovering, grumbling, “I mean, of course it is.”

Nuru sniffed. “It’s passable.”

Yong patted the mortar. “Can I bring this?”

Hugo lifted a shoulder. “I mean, it’s literally firepower, so, yeah.” Yong pumped his fist.

They split up to replenish Yong’s mortar and Varian’s staff. Nuru retrieved her telescope, and Hugo dropped Ruddiger and the twins off with the family as he evaluated repairs to the ship. Once they reconvened, they followed Ulla’s compass through dense growth, past trees with fat, ripe fruits, and bushes heavy with berries. If Ruddiger came, the trip would have taken three times as long as the raccoon filled his cheeks with produce. The four of them moved with purpose and little discussion. It was impossible to tell what might lurk in the thick foliage.

The compass led them to a wide, stone bridge over a narrow river. Peering through Nuru’s telescope, they found an inscription inlaid along the curving keystone archway. They passed the eyepiece back and forth until they’d all read it.

Rise Above

The Plane of Earth

To Find Your Prize

And Prove Your Worth

“There,” Nuru said, pointing near the abutment on the far side of the bridge. In the shadow of the wing wall, a sizeable, dark, round hole sank into the ground. “Corona better hook my kingdom up with some amazing equipment to demolish Star Bloom Mountain in service of me going in there.”

“I promise,” Varian said. “Oh, here.” He handed her the chemlight from around his neck. Then, he lifted the rod of the staff, laying the alchemy orb laden ring over his shoulder. He twisted the two halves of the brass pipe in opposite directions and an icy blue orb shot out the end. It sailed across the river and into the snake hole. A frosty haze wafted from the pit.

The turf on the opposite side of the bridge heaved up and dropped, sending ripples across the river. Beneath their feet, the earth trembled. Varian and the others scrambled onto the bridge and off the ground. Thirty meters away, near a grove of trees, a mighty snake with grey-blue scales emerged from the den’s exit hole and coiled beneath the branches, forked tongue flicking. It was ancient and enormous, with milky white eyes. Varian wondered if it feasted on livestock. That would explain the lack of wildlife in Ingvarr and the resulting overgrowth of produce. He wiped at his brow, glad to have left Ruddiger with his family.

“That’s way more snake than I expected,” Hugo muttered. “Wish I’d brought my bow.” Yong handed him the slingshot from his back pocket, which Hugo accepted with a scowl.

“Rise Above,” Varian recited. “We have to stay off the ground.”

Hugo rolled his eyes. “Sure. No problem.”

“It actually isn’t,” Varian said, shaking orbs out of the staff and changing their order before reinserting them. “All we have to do is draw it away from the den while Nuru does the retrieval.”

“Thing looks blind,” Nuru said, peering through her telescope before collapsing it. “It won’t see you.”

“Vibration,” Hugo stated. “It’ll notice if something runs along the ground and, hopefully, chase it. If we can draw it onto the bridge, it can’t burrow, and Nuru will have a clear shot at the den.” The others nodded in agreement. “So, who makes the run?” They looked at each other, then back at Hugo. “Oh, great,” he grumbled. “Fantastic.”

Yong said, “You do have the longest legs.”

“And if you mess up, no one will miss you,” Nuru added.

Hugo bristled. Varian knew she struck a raw chord. “I’ve got you, Hugo,” he assured. “Trust me.”

Hugo’s attitude changed, gazing at Varian with faith. “I… I do.”

Yong positioned high on the bridge, armed with his mortar, while Nuru crossed to the other side and waited for her signal. Hugo heaved a sigh. Varian patted him reassuringly on the back. “Being a hero sucks,” Hugo mumbled. He jumped off the safety of the bridge, landing hard on the ground below.

The snake whipped its diamond-shaped head in Hugo’s direction and slithered back into the hole. Hugo sprinted a zig-zagging path along the shoreline. The water in the river sloshed, spilling over the banks. Broken earth lifted in Hugo’s wake, dirt mounding up through the grass. “Blue?” his shaky voice called.

Varian tracked Hugo with the end of his staff. He twisted the sections again. “Jump!” he shouted as a darker blue orb sailed towards Hugo’s feet. Hugo leapt as the bubble orb burst. Its force carried Hugo up a fizzy funnel and into the air. The great snake broke ground and unhinged its jaws. Airborne, Hugo twisted, slotting an orb into place in Yong’s slingshot. He snapped the band. Orange smoke billowed from the snake’s mouth. It thrashed and dove underground again.  

“Yong, now!” Varian called. Yong dropped a purple smoke bomb, Nuru’s signal to enter the den. Varian twisted the staff over and over, creating a series of uniform, if unsteady, bubbles for Hugo to jump from. The lanky blonde had a rough time slip-sliding from one bubble to another. The earth this side of the bridge shook, a sign that the snake remained near, away from Nuru.

When the trail of bubbles ended, Hugo stumbled to the ground and jogged towards the bridge. The grass broke open behind him as the snake chased. “I made it mad!” Hugo yelled. “Get ready!” As Hugo’s footsteps hit stone, the snake breeched the earth, head followed by several meters of body. Hugo raced up the arch of the bridge, keeping just ahead of its fanged reach. The snake thrashed to one side, then the other, looking for earth to burrow into, finding only stone. It coiled, hauling its entire body onto the bridge in an attempt to turn around.

“Yong, pin it in place!” Hugo ordered, grabbing Varian by the shirt and hauling him further from the looping serpent.

“Finally!” Yong grinned and angled his mortar. He yanked a pulley on the bottom and a stream of smoke shot into the air. With a thunderous bang, the rocket exploded and sent a ring of fire down to encircle the snake. It writhed within the trap, stuck on the bridge until the flames died down.

“Let’s go go go!” Hugo urged, other hand grabbing Yong, pulling both him and Varian towards Nuru’s side. “Princess, you done down there?” he hollered.

“Yeah, coming,” she called up. Nuru emerged, a swath of white snakeskin rolled under her arm like a scroll of old, faded parchment. “I say we get out of here,” she said, handing Varian his chemlight back.

“Seconded,” Varian agreed. They headed over the far side of the bridge and hurried along the riverbank, eyes peeled for a way to cross back over. After a safe distance, they slowed. Yong chatted about the Ring of Fire’s internal mechanisms, and Nuru described the dark, cobwebbed-streaked snake den.

Downriver, they found a series of rocks to use as steppingstones. Nuru hopped across them with grace. Yong took his time, pausing and leaping, righting his mortar, then doing it again. Hugo strolled across on his long legs with ease. Varian, weighed down with the realization that it had taken all four of them to achieve this Trial, slipped on the last stone and landed on his rump on the cool river.

Hugo bent to give him a hand. “You alright?”

Varian took the offered hand and stood, keeping the staff out of the water. He was close enough to note the honeyed flecks in Hugo’s green irises. He found it hard to breathe. “I… yeah. Totally oxygen and potassium,” he said, though the punchline of his O and K periodic table joke never landed. Hugo paused for a moment before snickering in amusement. Varian cracked a dopey grin, delighted that someone finally understood.

Nuru’s head leaned around Hugo’s shoulder. Her gold eyes darted between the two of them. “Ah,” she muttered. “That's how it is, huh?”

Hugo craned his neck to look at her, dropping Varian’s hand. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, turning around. “For stars’ sake, Varian, get out of the water.”

“Oh! Right!” Varian didn’t realize he was still knee deep in the river. Hugging the staff to his chest, he waded out and fell behind the others. He still hadn’t won a Trial on his own. He chided himself for being selfish but couldn’t help feeling how he did.

The sun began to set as they arrived back at the cousins’ homestead. Varian’s aunt took one look at him, still sopping wet from the river, and hustled him into the house. “Here, now,” she said, shoving him behind a partition in a back room. “Out of those wet things. Let’s see what I’ve got. What did you get into?”

Varian pulled his gear, goggles, and gloves off. “I kinda… fell in the Old North River.” His stockings were squishy in his boots. He removed everything. His chemlight hung over his bare chest.

“These should do,” Aunt Beatrice said, holding a stack of clothes and shoes around the side of the partition. “It will be a few more years before Wells can wear these. Used to be Ulric’s when he was a lad.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Varian took the items and began changing.

“Now, what were you and your friends doing by the river?”

“Uh… well.” He started buttoning a white, long-sleeved shirt with loose sleeves and a high collar. “We were doing an experiment.” He donned a detailed, dark teal vest with gold clasps and trimming. The pants matched, and he added a black belt with gold buttons. The boots were high – though not as tall as Hugo’s – and made of steel with brass rivets.

“I see. How did it go?”

Varian stepped out from behind the partition. “No causalities,” he joked. “So, pretty well.”

His aunt tapped her chin, assessing him. A pleasant smile built. “You look like your uncle when I met him. Come. I think we still have some of his old gear.” She opened a trunk and began rummaging through it. “Is that what you and your friends are doing – experimenting across the kingdoms?”

“Yeah. Honestly, that pretty much sums it up.” He took the items she handed him – arm bands to keep his sleeves in place, fitted rubber gloves instead of his leather ones, a pouch that he slid the compass into. “Hugo was in charge this time.” Varian found himself grinning. “He did okay.”

“He’s a difficult one, isn’t he?”

Varian laughed. “I’ll say. He gets on my nerves a lot. On purpose. And then he’s really thoughtful. After that, he’s right back to being awful.”

His aunt chuckled and handed him an interesting set of goggles. “Clearly, you’re a late bloomer. You see,” she explained, “when a boy teases you, that means he likes you.”

The goggles almost fell from Varian’s hand. His face went hot. “What? No, that’s not… You... you think?”

“What do you think?”

Varian’s mouth parted and hung open. He’d never had a relationship. Not that he’d thought himself above romantic entanglements. He’d imagined himself on a different path than most – a solitary life of study and ambition – and hadn’t believed anyone would willingly share those same pursuits. He thought of that feeling of nausea-longing-excitement he had when Hugo was close. A crush. He had a crush on Hugo. And… he knew Hugo felt this way first. All the glances and flustered moments made sense now. What had happened underwater…

“I’m pretty stupid,” Varian mumbled, staring down at the goggles. They had an additional magnifying lens atop the existing pair.

“Not my words,” his aunt said. She positioned him in front of an oval dressing mirror. “There now. You look like a proper young man.”

And he did. He slipped the goggles on and tentatively ran a hand over his attire. Despite taunting Hugo about his hair, Varian’s own had grown longer and wilder, his teal streak dividing into two sections. He felt older seeing this new version of himself. “Aunt Bea… thank you.”

“Anything for family,” she said.

Varian left the house to find his family wrapping up work for the day on the ship. Yong was telling a very animated tale to the twins and Nuru, who had Ruddiger draped over her shoulder. Hugo’s build was easy enough to spot, standing in the shadows of the workshop, watching over his ship, flicking that pocket wrench of his. At Varian’s approach, he turned his head. The wrench dangled in his hand. “You, uh… you changed your clothes.”

Varian patted himself down, self-conscious. His palms were sweating in his gloves. “Is it – I mean… what do you –”

“No. Yeah, it’s, um… well made,” Hugo blathered.

“Oh. I… Thanks.” Why was he so nervous? They were friends. They’d even kissed once… hadn’t they? It remained unclear. He dug deep for courage. “Hey, um… walk with me, will you?”

Hugo raised his scarred brow but fell into step with Varian as he led from the workshop to the laboratory. “I enjoy being the guy with the plan,” Varian admitted as they walked. “But I also like knowing I can count on you to handle things.”

“You take good direction,” Hugo said, giving a subtle smile.

Varian shook his head. “Not always. I do what I think is best, because… well, because I’m usually the smartest person around, and I do know better. But… if I’m not careful, I won’t let anyone talk sense into me. And then… bad things happen.”

“How so?”

“I don’t listen. And I end up doing whatever I feel like.”

“Does it get you what you want?”

Varian sighed. “Almost. Almost every time.”

“So, get better at it,” said Hugo. “Why pause when you’re on the brink of a breakthrough?”

They stopped in front of the lab’s door. “Um, duh? Because people could get hurt,” Varian pointed out.

“There’s always a cost. It’s a matter of whether you’re willing to accept that.”

A cold feeling flushed through Varian. “I will never accept that!”

“Then… you’re going to be unhappy. And ineffective.”

Varian glared.

Hugo shook his head, wearing a sincere expression. “Not an insult, Blue. No problem gets solved by ignoring data. But if you need to test any theories…” He gave a weak shrug. “Nuru wasn't wrong. No one's gonna miss me.”

Varian’s anger waned. “That’s not true.”

“Still… offer stands.”

Varian pondered any benefits to his dark side. Tunnel vision. Quick decisions. Contingencies. Relentlessness. Survival. He was touched that Hugo trusted him with his life. Varian understood how hard that was for him. “Thanks,” he said, giving a small smile. “Really.”

Hugo returned the expression. Varian led him inside the lab, and they worked together to lift the wooden wheel in the center of the room. Varian dropped into the storeroom first and banged on the walls to activate the strings of multicolored chemlights. Hugo slid into the small alchemy pantry and gawked around as the wheel lowered above them. “Nice hidey-hole,” he said. He browsed the inlaid shelves. “Yeah, this’ll replenish almost everything we lost on the ship.” Varian reached for his hand but missed as Hugo crossed to the other side, lifting vials and swirling various liquids. “Cool find, Blue.” He patted his jacket and pants pockets as if checking for space to load up.

Still sweating, Varian grabbed his wrist. “Will you stop talking and hold still? I want to get this right.” Hugo paused, head slightly tilting in interest. Varian swallowed and stepped closer. This time would be on his terms, without questions or doubt. He put a hand at Hugo’s waist and slid the other up to take his shoulder. Open uncertainty hung in Hugo’s eyes.

Varian’s kiss was a soft press, timid and simple. Hugo tasted like sky and possibilities. A feeling of weightlessness grew as time slowed. After a few moments, Hugo took Varian’s face in his hands, deepening their kiss and eliciting a small sound from Varian. Hugo, who was confident at everything, was, of course, assertive when kissing. Heat built in the small space and a spinning sensation tied Varian’s stomach in knots. Overzealous, his careful hold intensified, and he drove Hugo back into earthen shelves, making the bottles rattle. “Ow,” Hugo muttered, parting their mouths.

“Sorry.”

“S’ok.”

As chests heaved, their eyes met. Hugo's pupils looked huge. Varian took a long breath. “Why do you call me Blue?” he finally asked. “Is it the eyes or the hair?”

“You were wearing a blue shirt when we met.”  

Varian groaned, burying his forehead in Hugo’s chest. Even as Hugo laughed, nothing felt odd or strained. There was an ache, but a pleasant one.

This felt right.

Chapter Text

Hugo spent another night aboard Prometheus, already there when Varian’s aunt and uncle arrived the next day to assess what repairs needed to be completed. Familiar with the ship and eager to help, Nuru and Yong went with them, giving Varian time with his cousins.

To say they played in the homestead’s laboratory wouldn’t be the right word. Each had their own project of varying importance. Carroll and Shelley worked in tandem on an interesting set of compounds, one a fertilizer, the other a pesticide. They made the same flower bloom and shrivel over and over. Verne added salt to samples of his mother’s jams, tasting each and saying “Yep” or “Nope” depending on his opinion. Jules, who wore Varian’s old set of goggles, added pigment to a series of beakers and shook them to see what glowing color they’d make.

Varian sat on the wooden wheel, putting himself between his cousins and Ulla’s underground storeroom, as he loaded replacement orbs into his staff. He watched Wells’ project with fascination. The red-headed boy had three jars – filled with clay, sand, and soil – and a flagon of vinegar. A wire from each jar ran to a wound-down pocket watch. Wells tested the clay and frowned. He tested the sand and made another face. “Varian, what am I doing wrong?”

“Hugo’s the guy to ask about that kind of thing,” Varian said, twisting the cap onto the end of his staff. “He knows way more about conductivity than I do.”

The hands of the pocket watch started spinning. “Got it!” Wells cheered. “It was the soil.” He scratched his findings onto a piece of paper in big, angular letters.

Varian smiled. It was like watching himself at various stages of his training. His grin faltered a little, realizing this was the same spot his mother did initial experimentation as a child. “Do any of you, maybe… might… know anything about your aunt? My mom?” It was a long shot – Ulla had been missing since before any of them had been born.

All five of his cousins stopped moving. “The Woods Witch,” Verne whispered. Carroll reached out to grab him, but he scampered closer to his twin. Jules pushed the goggles up as Verne ducked behind her. “S’why people won’t come out here,” he added.

“That’s not nice, Verne,” Carroll said, brows lowering. “We don’t spread rumors about people.”

“No, it’s alright,” Varian said, setting the staff down. Any information, even if it was flawed, was better than the blank slate his mother occupied. “What did he mean?”

“The twins read too many stories,” Shelley said, pinning them with a dark stare. “They developed wild imaginations.”

“We don’t make things up!” Jules argued, stamping her little foot. The goggles wobbled but stayed on. “The town says there was a Bringer of Light and a Bringer of Darkness.”

Carroll sighed. “They said Harbingers, not Bringers.”

Verne crossed his arms high over his chest. “That word’s too hard. I like this one better.” He jumped onto the wheel and spread his arms wide. “Once upon a time, there was a witch in the woods of Ingvarr.”

Jules hopped up next to him, holding a glowing blue beaker under her chin. The color made her red hair look muddy brown. “Nobody saw her for the longest time. But they heard her out there. Pow! Crack! Ka-boom! The trees would shake, birds flew away, and the next day, it always looked like lightning struck – charred trunks and cleared fields.”

“The people were so scared,” Verne added, clapping his face in mock fear. “What if she burned everything? That’s when they moved the whole town further away!”

Varian felt like he was listening to one of Xavier’s tales, only this was interesting. He looked at Wells. Even after a few days, Varian was closest to him. The boy was usually the last to speak after observing his siblings. He gave Varian a meek shrug. “The town did used to be someplace else, yeah. I think crops got scorched one year.”

“It wasn’t crops,” Carroll said, shaking her head. “It was stalls. A bunch of horses got free, and nobody ever found them.”

“Oh, no, they found them,” Shelley said. “Their bones, anyway.”

The snake. Varian rolled his lips together. Animals loose in the woods were easy prey. After, the snake would regurgitate the bones, leaving ominous piles. Science got confused with magic, and people were prone to panic over things they didn’t understand.

 “So, the town moved,” Jules confirmed, continuing the story. “And all was well. Until –”

“Until the Bringer of Light came!” Verne interjected. “Then there weren’t just burn marks. Then there was also real lightning that flashed through the trees at night!”

“The Woods Witch,” Varian said slowly, following. “She was the Bringer of Darkness. She was the one that left the burns. Why do you think that the… Woods Witch… was your aunt?”

Verne blinked and looked at his older sisters. Jules lowered the beaker. “Cause it all stopped went she left,” said Wells.

Varian felt drained. Even with the story overblown, Ulla left everything fragmented in her wake. Her family in Ingvarr. Her family in Corona. This winding quest with a vague endpoint.

A knock at the door to the lab startled all of them. Nuru and Yong entered as Aunt Bea poked her head in. “Hey, kids! Good news. We’re going into town soon for final repair supplies. So, gussy up and we’ll meet in front.” She closed the door.

Hot on the tail of that story, the cousins all glanced at each other. Varian, picking up their nervousness, asked, “What’s wrong?”

Carroll rubbed her arm. “Folks in town… well… they don’t always get what we do out here. They kinda think we’re…um…”

“Freaks,” Shelley finished.

“They’re not that nice to us,” Wells added.

“Yeah, same,” Yong said. “Don’t think anybody understood me not wanting the same path as my parents.”

Nuru chimed in with, “Or my standing out and stepping up when no one else would.”

Varian understood the stigma of being Town Weirdo. “Well, I’m not letting my aunt and uncle go alone.”

“No, no. We’ll go,” said Carroll. “But maybe we can… just hang back and stay quiet?” The others nodded.

“Enjoy your family, Honey,” said Nuru, patting Varian on the shoulder. Yong gave him a beaming smile.

He took up his staff. “Thanks, guys.” They spilt up, most going back to the homestead, others finishing projects. Varian went to return his staff to the workshop. Its contents were dangerous, and he didn’t want to keep it where the twins had easy access.

In the workshop, he found Hugo working on Prometheus’ induction motor, either side of its internal shaft propped up on a sawhorse. At Varian’s entry, Hugo glanced behind him. “Hey, hand me one of those split pins, will ya?”

“Oh. Sure.” Varian set his staff down and hooked a finger through a pronged metal fastener, which he passed to Hugo. They hadn’t seen each other since taking secret storeroom supplies to the ship. He wasn’t sure how to act after kissing somebody. Excited? Nonchalant? Should he say something? Gosh, what if I’m supposed to say something? he thought, air rushing out of his lungs. He hated when they slipped into uncertain territory.

Hugo gave the motor a gentle rock. A slow rotation became a steady spin, magnets turning the motor.

“You really do fix things,” Varian said.

“Pfft. You thought I was kidding?” Hugo twirled his collapsible wrench between dexterous fingers. “Coulda fixed the whole ship myself.”

“Still, that would’ve taken a while. Lucky we found my cousins. Now we’ll be on our way soon.”

Hugo frowned. “Yeah… we will be.” He went back to the motor, facing away from Varian as he worked, tightening screws. “Nothing I do will make you give up on this, huh?” He sounded a little sad.

“No way.” Discussing the outcome of their journey always triggered despondency in Hugo. Although Varian certainly wanted him along, they didn’t need him. Everything would take longer without the ship, but that wasn’t any reason to make Hugo stick around. “If you want to go… you know you can. Once the ship is fixed, you don’t have to stay.”

The muscles in Hugo’s back locked. “Do you want me to go?”

Varian gave a start and babbled, “No, I don’t want – I don’t want you do anything you’d rather not.”

“I don’t back out of a deal. And… I want to stay.”

“Good. I… I want that, too.” Varian fought around a ball of adrenaline. He’d almost sent Hugo away. “My family’s going into town to today,” he mentioned as his heart rate lowered.

“Oh, yeah?”

“You should come.” A blush licked up Varian’s cheeks as Hugo turned around. Did he just ask Hugo on a date? “I mean, you’d know better than anyone what we’d need and, who knows, might even be fun to –”

“Blue, are you nervous?” Hugo’s half-smile looked adorable.

“I – no. Why would I be, uh, nervous?” He held out his gloves, palms down. “Lookit these hands. Steady as stone.”

“Whatever you say.” Hugo slipped the wrench into its holster, grinning to himself. “I’m in.”

“You – Great! Wonderful.” Varian knew he was talking too much and bit his lip, silencing himself. Hugo kept on with that smile, seeming perfectly content to watch Varian squirm. “Um, we should, you know… my family…”

Hugo gestured to the door with a grand flourish. “Lead the way.”

They all walked to town in a group, the twins oscillating between excitement and wary looks at their siblings, who shuffled with bleak expressions. Varian longed to hold Hugo’s hand but was unsure if kissing one-and-a-half times gave him permission to touch someone whenever he felt like it.

“So, Hugo,” Ulric said. “You have a unique style of dress. Quite utilitarian. Pittsford, right?”

“Uh… right. How’d you know?”

“I knew someone from there.” Ulric deliberately caught Varian’s eye.

Varian hummed to himself. So, Donella had been from Pittsford, too. How had she found Ulla in dull Ingvarr? “Why were they… um, here?”

Jules whispered, “The Bringer of Light.”

“That’s enough,” Carroll hissed, pinching her sister on the arm.

Varian almost fell. Hugo and Wells each grabbed an arm. “It’s alright. I’m good.” Ulla had been making a spectacle of herself, running experiments in the woods and scaring the townsfolk, drawing attention. If she’d managed to successfully integrate magic with science, that made her a master alchemist. Donella’s notes stated that she’d followed Ulla into the Trials. Had she been following his mother for even longer? Hunting her for her abilities?

“Hugo?” Verne tugged on his sleeve. “Can I borrow your goggles?”

Hugo narrowed his eyes. “What for?”

“Jules already has a pair. I’ll give them back. Promise.”

Heaving a sigh, Hugo pulled them over his head. “You’d better.”

Verne took them and skipped away happily, he and Jules mingling with other small children as they entered the town. Carroll, Shelley, and Wells hung back, close to the crisscrossed fencing that surrounded the town. It seemed a perfectly fine place, if rather boring. There was nothing of note of display, average wares available in front of uninspired, muted-toned buildings flanking a street of packed earth.

The Ingvarr market worked differently than Varian was used to, operating on a barter system without currency. Uncle Ulric and Aunt Bea signed promissory notes to produce blown glass, lumber, carpentry, even elliman and midwife services in exchange for whatever scanty equipment Hugo found. His family made nearly everything they could on site at the homestead, supplementing what they didn’t manufacture. Today, they stocked up on textiles and pottery. If pushed, loose fiber, elastics and ceramic made for serviceable equipment.

Varian fumed, knowing that his family deserved better than what Ingvarr offered. They were all smart, capable, and ambitious, and ought to have anything they needed to further their endeavors. He also understood how hard it was to gain acceptance after an ordeal. His uncle had to have undergone a rough history due to Ulla’s whims. Small wonder Ulric didn’t want his children to leave or be exposed to risky ideas, lest they endure starting over yet again. It was wrong to keep his cousins here, but it was safe. Varian scratched the back of his head. “When did I start thinking like my father?” he mused.

The twins came back around. Verne wore Hugo’s goggles over the crown of his head, mirroring the way Jules wore Varian’s. Both had some type of oil-based residue in their hair. “Is that grease?” Varian asked, glancing about. “What did you get into?” The family didn’t need additional complications.

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Jules insisted.

“We were trying to help,” said Verne.

‘Trying to help’ sometimes got out of hand. Varian took both their wrists and walked them back to their older siblings, Hugo following, as his aunt and uncle went about their own business in town.

“What’s so interesting out here?” Hugo asked as they joined the cousins on the other side of the fence. Carroll, Shelley, and Wells all sported long faces. “Not that there’s a whole lot going on in town, but I don’t get the loitering.”

“I… well…” Varian started, bracing himself for the look on Hugo’s face when he tried to explain the story of The Woods Witch.

“It’s because of us,” Carroll said, taking the pressure off Varian. “The town thinks we’re a bad influence.”

Hugo wrinkled his nose. “You’re a bunch of kids. What’s there to worry about?”

“Remember what you said at the inn outside Bayangor?” Varian asked. “About how people who don’t understand things get scared?”

Hugo raised his brows and looked at each of them individually, including Varian. “Then those people are a bunch of fools. And that makes you better than them. Not because you think you’re exceptional, but because you aren’t afraid to try new things. So, don’t ever let fear stand in the way of you being remarkable.”

The cousins shared awed glances. “Did your family teach you that?” Wells asked.

“No, I… I didn’t have family. I had to tell it to myself.” Varian was the only one that knew about Hugo’s lonely upbringing.

Verne handed Hugo his goggles back, as promised. “That’s okay. You can be part of our family, too! Just like Varian!” Both he and Jules tore off again, Shelley yelling after them.

Hugo stood like a pillar of salt, wearing a slack expression. “Blue, I… I think I made a mistake,” he whispered.

“What do you mean? With the motor?”

He slid the googles’ strap around his head and pulled them down. “No, I –” The instant the goggles brushed his glasses, Hugo whipped both off. “Oh, come on!” He clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. “Why are kids always sticky?”

“What happened?” Varian asked. Hugo held out his glasses and goggles in response. A dark residue, the same as was in the twins’ hair, coated the eye cups of the goggles and smeared the lenses of his glasses. “Oh. Yep. Definitely grease,” Varian said without touching either.

“Swell,” Hugo muttered, lifting his hand away.

Shelley and Carroll both let out a snort. “Uh, Hugo?” Wells tapped near his own eye socket.

Grease must have coated the strap as well. Hugo’d gotten it on his hand and left a broad, brown-black swipe across both eyes and the bridge of his nose. He dragged a finger under his eye, checked the tip, then gave a frustrated sigh.

“I can make a solvent when we get back to the homestead,” Varian offered.

“Thanks, Blue.” He rubbed fingers over the marks, causing the dark substance to spread, contrasting boldly with his pale skin.

“Stop that,” Shelley said. “You’re making things worse.” She pulled the short smock from her outfit and handed it to Hugo. “You look like Varian’s rat.” He used it to wipe his hands and wrap his glasses and goggles, storing them in his holster.

“For crying out loud,” Varian grumbled. “Ruddiger’s not a –”

Voices rose from the town square. At the protesting squeals of Verne and Jules, their group sprinted into the town. Something made a loud, constant, clattering sound. Two women, weavers from the textile shop, each held onto a twin. “Of course,” one said, as the other cousins ran up. “It’s this family.”

Their parents joined moments later. “What’s going on here?” Aunt Bea shouted, grabbing her children back. A crowd was gathering.

“Look what they did!” the other weaver shrieked, pointing through the open door of her shop.

One of the handlooms had transformed into a power loom, churning out lengths of woven fabric. A simple hydraulic press of pressurized mason jars filled with water attached to a series of cogs, levers, and springs, making the loom run on its own, mimicking a weaver’s movement, only faster. The twins even remembered to lubricate the gears for high speed – hence the grease. The cogs weren’t quite aligned, the cause of the racket as the whole loom rattled.

Uncle Ulric darted into the shop and yanked connectors from the jars, stopping the process. The loom stilled. Disappointment washed over his face. “Children, where did you gather all this equipment?”

 Verne and Jules looked at each other, then jammed thumbs over their shoulders at the other little kids. “Just one or two things each,” said Jules. “It seemed really silly to sit there all day, doing the same thing, so we helped.”

“Yeah, now the weavers can do whatever they want!” Verne said, his huge blue eyes darting between his parents. “That’s… that’s good, right?”

Ulric and Beatrice shared a pained look.

A butcher spouted, “Each time the bunch of you show up, the other children start to ask questions. Why can’t this happen? Why can’t that happen? They want a magic wand to make things different.”

“Well, it is natural for children to be inquisitive,” Ulric said, though his color drained.

An elderly cobbler stated, “It wasn’t natural to see light come and go in the woods, like a thunderstorm on a clear night.”

“Lighting,” Varian muttered, pondering the twins’ Wood Witch story. The lights had to be bolts of electricity. He looked at Hugo, an electrician. Of course. Ulla’s partner, Donella, was from Pittsford, too, a kingdom that used wiring and cables the way Corona valued arts and masonry. His mother had been experimenting with currents and energy, overheated mechanisms leading to fires that charred the woods. There were no trees left near the homestead’s workshop.

“The lot of you should head for Pittsford,” a weaver spat, “with the rest of the heretics and stargazers.”

Varian puffed his chest, ready to defend his family, when Hugo stepped in front of him. “Well, now, that’s not a fair assessment,” the blonde from Pittsford addressed the crowd. “Heresy is relative to any region’s definition of normalcy. For example, one might refer to Ingvarr as a flat surface, meaning there’s little to no depth. Another might say that Pittsford, in comparison, is astronomically beyond anything your simple minds could comprehend. Whoops. Yeah, that’s a star joke.”

“Ulric!” the second weaver cried. “Did you bring more troublemakers with you?”

“Who? Me?” Hugo asked, pacing away from the family. The smeared grease across his eyes imitated warpaint. He looked crazed, yet wildly confident. “Nah, I’m kind of a loner.”

Varian got it. Hugo, always good at distraction, was drawing the line of fire away from him, away from his family, making a target of himself and granting them time to withdraw. Varian nudged Carroll, who did the same to her siblings. He caught his uncle’s eye and nodded to go. They tiptoed backwards as Hugo made a scene.

“Big, bad ideas. Change, ugh. Am I right?” Hugo wove through the market with the flair of a carnival barker. People stepped away from him as he passed. “Just gotta keep doin’ what you’re doin’ because…” He shrugged. “It’s easy? It’s familiar? Do you live in a cave? Well, I mean, Nuru does, but she’s got her reasons,” he prattled. “People wear clothes instead of fur. And, hey! Shoes! How about that? So, different? And new? Not always awful.”

With his family seeing themselves out of town, and lacking their telltale red hair, Varian watched Hugo work the crowd. Part of the reason he looked so crazy was because his eyes were unfocused. He didn’t have his glasses. Even hindered, his gumption was inspiring. He just did whatever he had to, no conflict, no hesitation. Admiration curved Varian’s mouth into a smile.

“So, remember,” Hugo concluded, “next time you burn your books or your witches or what have you, that you’re setting up a world those kids of yours are going to inherit. And if you can’t handle yarn moving too fast, boy, you probably shouldn’t even think about what’s going on in Pittsford.”  

“Enough of your insults,” said the butcher. “I suggest you leave.”

Hugo brought his hands together in one ringing clap. “See? This town does have great ideas!” He marched out with a swagger. “Keep ‘em coming.”

Varian hustled to get ahead of him, moving free from the crowd, and was at the fence when Hugo arrived. His family had already left, seven figures heading towards the woods separating the town from the homestead. It was sunset, with long shadows and coral skies. “Didn’t know you were so into your kingdom,” Varian said as they walked, leaving the town behind.

“I’m not. I like science and metallurgy. Which is, typically, at its apex in Pittsford.” Hugo squinted at Varian’s family in the distance. “I still can’t see.”

Happy for an excuse to touch him, Varian linked an arm around Hugo’s elbow, guiding him. “You don’t need to.”

Hugo looked older without his glasses, more serious and, well… handsome. Even with the grease. He caught Varian staring and grimaced. “On a scale of one to ten million, how stupid do I look?”

“I think you look amazing,” Varian gushed.

“Really?” Hugo stopped walking, a bewildered look on his face.

“Definitely.” Varian put his hand just behind Hugo’s jaw and drew him in for a kiss. He tried some of Hugo’s moves from the storeroom, utilizing different angles and pressures. Worried about boundaries, he backed off. “Is this okay?”

Hugo traced his hands up Varian’s neck to cup the sides of his head and pull him right back. “Mmm,” he hummed against Varian’s mouth. “Any time.”

If it came down to a contest, Hugo remained the better kisser. That was alright. Varian was a fast learner.

Chapter Text

The next few days were filled with an atmosphere of happiness and hopefulness. During the daytime, everyone worked on the ship, either together as a group or in pairs. Nights consisted of boisterous dinners and stories. Almost everyone took a turn, Aunt Bea telling of the lands beyond the seven kingdoms, the twins making up tall tales, Varian recounting his own adventures. The only person to withhold was Hugo.

Nothing explicit happened between him and Varian – just covert glances during the day and quick, sweet kisses at night. In the late hours, the two of them hauled supplies up from the storeroom to the ship’s lab, where they created more orbs from themselves. If this was absolute partnership, Varian was set to sign up. He added a few emergency orbs to his belt, along with a spare chemlight. Hugo restocked the pieces he needed to make more of his dragonflies.

Nearly a week later, the family gathered in the field. “Might not be impeccable,” said Uncle Ulric, looking up at Prometheus, “but she’s airworthy.”  

“She’s perfect,” Hugo praised. “And shiny.” Prometheus’ polished hull bore a patchwork of metals, deep copper and light grey aluminum against the original steel. Nuru’s telescope had been mounted near the helm, along with a setting to hold the compass. They replaced the broken grapple arm with a launchable hydraulic claw at the bow. The galley, lab, and workshop were full, the boiler plied with water. Even the damage Yong had caused to the railing was fixed.

“Hey, don’t forget us, ‘kay?” Wells said bashfully, hands in his pockets.

“Not a chance,” said Varian, and swept him up in a hug. No matter how things resolved with his mother, Varian vowed his cousins would be the first he’d bring to the Library.

They all exchanged handshakes, fist bumps, and embraces before Varian, Yong, Nuru, Hugo, and Ruddiger all boarded the ship. Hugo went to get the magnetized motor spinning, while Yong stoked the boiler to life. The ship lifted. Varian waved to his family until they faded into the distance. “You good?” Nuru asked.

“Yeah,” Varian answered truthfully, flashing her a smile. “This has already been worth the struggle.” Between finding his cousins and connecting with Hugo, the anxious feeling he had over his mother’s fate dulled somewhat, nulling urgency, and giving him room to enjoy the present. He placed the open compass in its fitting at the helm.

Hugo took the wheel as Nuru retired to the cabin. Following the compass, they headed out of Ingvarr. Varian and Yong worked together in the lab, focusing on a way to safely weaponize Varinium so that it didn’t eat through the ship again. At dusk, Nuru and Hugo traded places, utilizing her superior night vision for the second shift. Yong joined her at the helm to tell her all about his day as she flew. Hugo went to the cabin.

Varian loitered in the lower deck, grabbing overdue solitude - ironic, for a trip he’d assumed would be solo. He opened the small window that led out the stern and leaned on the sill, night breeze ruffling his hair. The newness of Hugo and his… situation… made him greedy for more. He wasn’t keen to give Hugo up at the end of their quest. Truly, they could stay at the Library as long as they wanted. And when they’d learned to satisfaction they could leave together. Hugo spoke of Pittsford as a place of origin, not in terms of home. Corona forgave plenty of criminals. Would Hugo adapt to royal life? Would he even want to go? Was it way too soon to even consider this?

Varian sighed, and propped his chin on his forearms, shifting thought.

The Trials had been challenging, but not impossibly hard. If Varian hadn’t gotten the Fire forge destroyed, others could still try them. What, and when, was the catch? The totems of hematite, organic matter from the Mermaid, Sundrop sap, and snakeskin didn’t follow a discernable theme. Varian mulled how the Trials all resonated within him – ego, trust, disappointment, change – continuing even after the instigating event was over. “What if… creating a thing isn’t the point?” he wondered aloud. “What if the journey is about the journey itself?” The spiritual side of alchemy hovered remarkably close to the realm of mysticism and transcendence. He cringed. If he wanted to ascend anywhere close to Demanitus’ level of ingenuity and skill, he’d have to lean into magic.

Something flashed in the night, soaring straight towards Varian. His hand found a heavy pair of tongs on the alchemy table and swatted at the object as it flew through the open window. Metal crunched as he smashed it against the workbench. Varian lifted the tongs to find one of Hugo’s clockwork dragonflies crushed beneath it. Apparently, they sometimes came back. “Aw, man,” Varian muttered, collecting the pieces in his hands. Just when he and Hugo reached a solid place, he destroyed one of Hugo’s inventions. He’d never seen one return, and Hugo’d never mentioned they did.

A minuscule roll of paper poked from the flattened, hollow thorax of the mechanical insect. Varian flicked the magnifying lens of his new goggles down. Using pliers, he carefully wiggled the paper free without tearing it. He unrolled the paper. With the lens down, reading the note was easy.

Keep to protecting the boy. It must be him that reaches the end of the Trials, not one of the cousins. A continued conversation on this matter would displease me greatly and terminate your employment. - D

A melt of snow trickled through Varian’s veins, chilling him to the bone. Goosebumps rolled down his back, and a tremor formed in the hand holding the note. A crack formed in the cap that held his Darkness in. He gathered the note, and the broken dragonfly and left the lower deck.

Varian dreamwalked across the ship on numb feet. Nuru and Yong’s laughter at the helm sounded hollow, like listening through a pipe. “Get off the ship,” he told them in a deadened voice.

Their mirth stopped instantly. “Varian, what –” Nuru began.

“Now. Go,” he ordered. “Yong, lower us. Nuru, collect what you can. Stay away from the cabin.” He marched on, through the galley and toward the cabin, heart pounding. Holding the dragonfly and its contents in one hand, he gripped the spare chemlight at his side. If he was right – and he hoped against logic that he was mistaken – he’d have to stop Hugo, not slow him. His chemlights’ main purpose was illumination, but their contents were his deadliest concoctions, with the exception of Last Resort.

He sucked a bracing inhale through his nose before entering the cabin.

Hugo reclined in his bunk, legs crossed, arms behind his head. Ruddiger lay curled up on his chest. He gave a beaming smile at Varian’s approach. “Hey, Blue,” he said in a wrenchingly soft voice.

Ruddiger sprang up and scrambled out of the cabin. He knew his master’s moods.

Varian flung the dragonfly’s pieces at the floor of the cabin. They clinked as they bounced and scattered. “Was everything you ever told me a lie?”

Hugo jumped, watching the strewn pieces fall to the floor. A piece of paper floated down and landed on his bed. He froze, staring at the unfurled note. His eyes snapped to Varian’s, then back at the note. Without a word, he’d already condemned himself. “I can explain,” he said, easing out of bed and to his feet.

Varian’s fingers curled tight around the chemlight. “You’d better.”

“At first, yes. But not for a while now!”

Varian’s head swam, black pressing in on the edges of his vision. “The note says D. As in Donella? My mom’s partner?”

Hugo’s hands crept up into a submissive pose. “I… okay, truth time. Yes. She’s like my aunt. An aunt where you touch her things and she yells at you, but she’s taken care of me for a while now.”

“You knew exactly where those dragonflies were going,” Varian accused. “How long have you been sending her notes?”

Hugo’s open palms raised in a meek shrug. “Since the beginning.”

Varian puffed up like an angry cat. “The Saporians that attacked us in the Fire Kingdom…”

“Her crew."

“What does she want? Me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does she want the Library?”

“I don’t know.” Varian hurled the chemlight. Hugo whipped out of the way, and the vial smashed against the back wall. The metal bubbled, and a hole formed in the hull. “Whoa,” Hugo yelped. “I really don’t! She and I, we’re not heart-to-heart kinda people, in case you noticed. I do my part, I get paid, and that’s it.”

Varian balled his fists tight enough for the rubber gloves to squeak. “You get paid? You built this fake relationship with us… for money?”

“Me happening to overhear about your journey, yeah, that was fake.” Hugo crossed his hands over his heart, eyes wide and imploring. “But everything about you – about us – all of that was real! I thought I could change her mind, get her to leave you alone. When she saw how many cousins you had –”

“Wait, wait, wait. When she saw?” The ship seemed to give way under Varian’s feet, sending him into freefall, tumbling head over heels without knowing which way was up. The night Hugo disappeared Varian assumed he’d been brooding on the ship. “She’s following us? And you… you showed her where my family lives?”

Hugo’s posture changed, turning defensive. “Hey, I’ve been keeping you safe this whole time. I fix things. That’s what I do. And I’m fixing this! I can convince her to wait, use one of the others –”

“Hugo, you didn’t fix anything! Read the note.” Hugo frowned, reaching for the paper as Varian shouted, “This isn’t an exchange where you just sub someone in and out! My family fixed your ship. You slept in their house. They trusted you. I trusted you. How dare you try to sentence them to this! We almost died in each Trial!”

Hugo read the note and glanced up. There was a subtle shift in sensation as the ship lowered. “She could pick up where we left off. What if –”

Varian puts his hands over his forehead, a barrier between him and Hugo’s twisted version of integrity. “Stop, Hugo! Just…” He’d been living a false reality where the two of them shared a trajectory to… somewhere. The memory of their ethereal underwater kiss filled Varian with rage and humiliation. He peered at Hugo from under his palms. “After the Water Trial, when we were swimming for the surface… was that a trick, too?”

The corners of Hugo’s mouth pulled down, and he closed his eyes. “Varian…”

Varian.

Not Blue. Not Nerd.

He’d never hated the sound of his own name before.

Varian’s eyes burned. No way he’d let Hugo see him cry. He rummaged through the cabin, filling his backpack. “You made me believe…” He cut himself off, memories of the storeroom too painful, too degrading. Hugo had been playing a role from the start. Even bringing Varian to Yong’s father when he’d been sick was part of a plot. For an irrational moment, Varian wanted to dump the corrosive contents of his pendant chemlight all over Hugo to watch the acids eat through flesh and bone, exposing his absent heart. “There’s no us. There never was.” His cousins. Hugo willingly inserted them into Donella’s scheme. Varian shouldered his pack and took up his staff. “No one puts my family in danger. Not you. Not anyone. Stay away from me.” He turned to leave.

Hugo grabbed his shoulder. “Look, I –”   

Varian whirled and pinned Hugo to the cabin wall, hand around his throat, shadowy whispers telling him to squeeze. “No. No more lies.” His words were flat, low, and laced with venom. “If I ever hear from you again, I will destroy you. I will find any place people like you hide and raze it to the ground. I will chase you from all seven kingdoms. Do not test my commitment to vengeance. Are. We. Clear?”

Hugo countered Varian’s tone with pure frost. “Crystal.”

Varian released him and stepped out onto the deck. He pried the compass from its mount on the helm and joined Nuru and Yong as they descended the ladder. Ruddiger hopped down the rungs and sat on Varian’s shoulder, pushing a cold nose into his neck. Nuru had her telescope and spear. Yong had his medicine pouch and the Varinium launchers.

The chain ladder recoiled, clanking as it went. The thrusters powered up, blades spinning. Prometheus returned to flying altitude and sailed away. “You gonna tell us what happened,” said Nuru, “or did you feel like walking was the better idea?”

Varian’s fingers dug into Ruddiger’s fur. He gasped dry tears, feeling like a hapless fool. “Hugo’s not who he says he is.”

“Who is he?” Yong asked.

“Someone who… someone that… He was sent to spy on us. Report on what we did. He wasn’t our friend.”

“Are you sure?” Nuru asked, incredulous.

Varian faced her. “Given the chance, he would have sold you out for the first shiny thing offered.”

Rather than wander in the dark, they made camp for the night. Yong started a fire and Nuru lay out bedrolls from Varian’s pack. Varian hunched under a tree, compass in his hands, staff on the ground at his side. His eyes ached from holding back tears and he felt hot all over. “Mom,” he pleaded. “I could use some help now.” She’d appeared before in his moment of weakness. He refused to believe she’d been nothing more than a fever dream. He needed something to be real, that this trip hadn’t just been delusions and foolish choices. “Mom,” he tried again, voice quiet and watery. “Please.” Tears blurred his vision. “Please. Please.”

“You seat yourself in the shadow of a giant yet know nothing,” a woman said. “Pity. Though, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Varian lifted his head. The woman standing before him shared little in common with the comforting, enthusiastic presence from the border of Bayangor. She shared his features – the same as his cousins – and wore the same clothing as before, but her eyes were cold and callous. Her loose red hair rippled and wove into a braid trailing down her back. Her words… Varian had heard them somewhere before.

“You left me!” he told her. He agonized that his mother hadn’t even wanted him – that his existence stood in the way of her pursuits, so she deliberately abandoned him. “I had to do everything on my own! This isn’t my fault. I can’t figure out what you write,” he reasoned, throwing a hand in the air. “It’s like you’re the crazy one in the family and I’m just fine.”

Yong called, “Varian, are you okay?”

“Who are you talking to?” Nuru asked.

Varian shook their voices from his ears.

“You’re asking the wrong questions.” Another quote from the past. Donella’s voice overlapped with Ulla’s.

“I’m doing the best with what I have. You didn’t leave me anything! You ramble and keep secrets. It’s like…” A terrible thought occurred to Varian. There was a fine line between scientist and sorcerer. “It’s like you weren’t even an alchemist. It’s like you really were a witch.”

A third voice layered into the woman’s words. This, he recognized as Rapunzel’s. “That’s enough, Varian,” all three said.

Varian stood, clutching the compass so tight it might break. “What? My dreams? Wanting anything at all? All I do is lose things. My mom, my dad, my chance at completing Demanitus’ own puzzles on my own, somebody who could…” Fresh hurt cut his words short.

The figure warped, lengthening into Hugo’s beanpole shape. The clamor of the Blind Prince raged around him, breaking wood and clashing glasses. “Such an easy mark,” Hugo’s form jeered. “What a moon-eyed idiot.”

“Shut up! I’m not an idiot!” Blood surged as his ears rang and his heart pounded. Vertigo made him sway.

Nuru came closer. “Var-”

“Stop interrupting!” he snapped at her.

Nuru stood frozen. Ruddiger dived behind her. Yong’s eyes darted between Nuru and Varian.

The figure’s visage changed again, shifting back into a woman, but keeping the round, eyeless circles of Hugo’s glasses. Her long hair flashed between red, white, and sunlit blonde. Voices from his past came together in a piercing assault.

Fade and Fall.

“Varian?”

My son!

Don’t you have a kingdom to overthrow?

Blue, I can’t do this alone!

“Varian, please.”

My boy, the expert.

After what he’s done?

“Varian!” Nuru yelled, ripping the compass from his hands.

The figure disappeared entirely, taking the voices and leaving only blank night. Varian leapt to where it had been, fingers grasping at nothing. “No!” he shrieked in hysterics. “That’s all I have of her!”

“Honey,” Nuru said, handing the compass off to Yong, who held it behind him. “You need to stop.”

“Give it back,” Varian growled, reaching for an orb on his belt. Nuru pulled her star hairpin out and flung it at Varian, striking him in the wrist. “Agh!”

Nuru shook her head, eyes full of bewilderment. “Varian…” Fear tightened her voice. “What did you do to Hugo to make us leave?”

“What did I do?” he repeated, aghast. “Oh, because I’m the problem? Fine.” Nuru wasn’t the first to turn against him. In the end, everyone left, challenged, or betrayed him. He picked the staff off the ground and raised it. “I can be the monster.”

Nuru moved like lightning, diving to grab her spear and pivot in time to block Varian’s downward swing. The brass of the staff and the steel of the spear made a sharp sound as they collided. Varian roared and dragged the staff down the length of the spear, metals throwing sparks as he broke free of her.

Varian wasn’t useless in combat. His father instilled enough training, ensuring that the heir to the Dark Brotherhood could fight with vicious intent if necessary. He hammered at the shaft of her spear, shoving her backwards with brute strength. A thought accompanied each blow.

Ulla not being how he envisioned her.

Clang.

Failing to complete a Trial on his own.

Slam.

Ulric’s insinuation that he was tied to magic.

Whack.

The warmth in Hugo’s duplicitous smiles.

Bang.

Nuru whipped her spear around and caught Varian behind the knees, making him fall. The staff flew from his hands. He clutched at her dress, yanking her down. They both crawled for the staff, Nuru hindered by the spear in her hand. She grabbed at Varian’s clothes, his vest, his belt, trying to slow him. He reached the staff and got to his feet. Nuru rolled as he swung the staff’s ring at her head.

“Varian, please,” she begged, standing. “I don’t want to hurt you!” With a cry, he wielded the staff at her. She twirled, causing him to miss, and poked him in the hip with the head of her spear, drawing blood as she severed his alchemy belt and flicked it out of reach.

A curtain of black fell over Varian’s mind. He pried a white neutralizing orb from the staff’s ring and lobbed it at Nuru. It burst, and a shard of rock salt cut her face, causing her to cry out. One after another, he pulled orbs from the staff and threw them. Using the shaft of her spear, she hit them back like they were playing cricket, making him dodge his own attacks. He yanked the final orb, Last Resort, free and reeled back to throw it.

Something bit Varian in the leg, causing him to look away before turning his wrath back to Nuru.

The curtain lifted.

Ruddiger raced away from Varian and ducked behind a terrified-looking Yong. Nuru stood braced in front of them, spear tip high and prepped, torment clear on her face, a fine trickle of blood tracing down her cheek. This was the second time Varian started a physical fight in front of Yong, an innocent admirer who was repeatedly exposed to the worst side of him.

A wave of shame knocked Varian to his knees. Last Resort and the staff rolled harmlessly from his hands. “Why am I like this?” he quietly croaked. He curled forward, arms around his stomach, tears slipping down his cheeks. He felt torn in half, losing the battle to balance his two selves.

“Are you done?” Nuru cautiously asked.

Varian stared at the ground. “I hope so. Oh my God, I hope so.” He prayed his dad would never hear of his actions. His father would be ashamed. And rightfully so.

Footsteps padded towards him. The butt of Nuru’s spear hit the dirt in front of him. She offered her hand. “I don’t like what that compass does to you. Not at all.”

“It makes you scary,” Yong added.

Varian wondered if continuing to pursue his mother would unravel him. “Are you gonna give it back?”

“No,” said Nuru.

“Good.” Varian nodded. “I… I think that’s best.” He took her hand. “I’m sorry, Nuru. I don’t… I don’t know what that was.”

Her gold eyes stared at him without blinking. “You'd better figure it out.”

Chapter Text

Something bounced off the side of Varian’s head. He jerked awake, bolting erect in his chair. “I’m here! What?” he blurted in confusion. A small, ice blue orb – the object that struck him – spun in circles over pages of schematics littering his workspace.

His workspace.

Varian leaned back, gazing up at the towering interior of Demanitus’ Chamber in Corona. He looked down at the royal attire he wore. Had he fallen asleep while working on a project? Wouldn’t be the first, or twentieth, time.

“Let’s go, Nerd. We’re late.” Hugo stood on the steps leading up to the palace. He held a length of wound cable over one shoulder. “Your regent’s got an issue with the aesthetic. So, we gotta explain it. Again.” He wore his standard trousers and tall boots, but also a longer coat bearing tails and a tall collar. The collar was stamped with the royal sunburst seal of Corona.

“But, I… you… why are you here?” Varian stammered.

Hugo huffed a sigh and adjusted the cable. “Blue, did you suffer a head injury?”

Had he? Varian’s hands flew to his head, checking for lumps. “I… think I’m good?”

“Then grab the globes and c’mon.” Hugo lifted the shoulder with the cable. “This isn’t getting any lighter.”

Varian scooted his chair back and glanced around. A wide basket of glass globes sat near the table. He clutched the handles and joined Hugo at the stairs, brain throbbing with bewilderment and feeling as though he’d missed a crucial development. “I don’t… Do you live here?”

“Har-har,” Hugo jeered as they walked.

“No. I’m serious.”

Hugo lowered a brow. “Yeah, Blue. I live here.”

“Where here? Like, Corona? The palace?”

They stopped before the arching, golden doors to the palace. Worry etched Hugo’s face. “Blue, you sure you’re okay?”

Varian had no idea. So, he did what he’d learned to. He lied. Plastering on a big smile, he said, “Just messing with you. Course I’m fine.” He laughed in a way he hoped was convincing. “Let’s go.” He hit the door with his back and turned into a familiar hallway. Varian narrowly avoided tripping over a cable that ran the length of the palace’s hall. The glass globes rattled in their basket. A short walk took them to the throne room. The guards let them right in.

“Oh, come on, Hugo!” Eugene shouted, strolling down from the dais. Another fat cable snaked up the stairs, which he had to step over. “More?”

Hugo let the excess cable slide off his shoulder in a heap on the polished floor. “Uh, yeah. More,” he said with snide confidence. “Don’t be a brat. We’re almost done.”

Eugene gasped in offense. “I am not a brat! You’re causing road hazards.”

“It’s necessary.”

“Find a better way.”

Hugo held his position. “Then dig up the streets. It goes over or it goes under. Pittsford laid everything ground-up.”

Varian’s eyes jumped between the two of them. Eugene was the regent in dispute with Hugo. “What… are we talking about?”

Eugene and Hugo shared a puzzled look. “Project Apollo, Goggles?”

“Project Apollo?”

“Blue.” Hugo pointed at the basket. “You’re holding it.”

Varian blinked down at the basket he carried. The glass globes had wire filaments inside. “These are… light bulbs.” He jerked his head up. A giddy bubble expanded and popped inside him. “Light? We’re setting up an electric light system in Corona? I mean, whoa. Covering the entire island would require an incredible amount of energy, dozens if not hundreds of lamps, laying miles of cable – which… it looks like we have.” The thrill had him shaking with excitement. “Oh, wow. We’re really doing this!”

“See?” Hugo said, slapping Eugene in the chest. “He’s fine.” He plucked a bulb from the basket and went to twist it into a post that had cables strung up one side and down the other. “It’s just light, sheesh,” the boy from highly industrial Pittsford mumbled. “Everybody’s making such a big deal.”

“Of course, it’s a big deal!” Varian almost jumped out of his skin as Rapunzel appeared at his side. “It’s almost like, well,” she said, searching. “It’s like a metaphor! Light counteracts the darkness and makes all bad things go away!”

“Eh, I don’t think that’s how it goes, Blondie,” Eugene placated nicely.

“Hand me the extra cable,” Hugo told Eugene, pulling his multi-tool out. “I need to run a conduit.”

“Oh, and now he wants me to help lay more land snares. Wonderful,” Eugene griped, but he dragged the cable towards Hugo, who was stripping copper wires.

Rapunzel’s smiling face blocked Varian’s view. She held up a plate of cookies. “Cookie?” she offered.

“Uh, no. I’m good.” A pervasive ambiguity hung over Varian. He couldn’t put his finger on why. “You know Hugo?”

“Uhhh, how could I not know Hugo? The two of you are partners,” Rapunzel said slowly, as if Varian were dumb. “You’re like his shadow.”

Shadow. Shadow. Shadow, echoed throughout the room. Only Varian noticed. He turned, seeing his own shadow scale one of the walls. As he watched, it grew, becoming more sinister and rounded. The red glow of an automaton eye peered out of the silhouette. Varian gasped and dropped the basket of bulbs.

The basket never hit the floor.

Varian was back in the laboratory. A shower of sparks cascaded beside him, and he jumped out of the way. Hugo kneeled before an enormous, blocky generator, welding with his spiked goggles on. The generator spouted coils and copper wiring, along with a test bulb. More of those thick, heavy cables crisscrossed all over the floor, leading up the stairs and out of the palace. It felt strange to see someone else utilizing his workspace. Varian wished Rapunzel had opted for a better word than partners. Were they colleagues or lovers? “I should know this,” he murmured, putting his hands on the worktable and leaning against it.

“Stop touching things,” Hugo barked over the roar of the blowtorch. “You’re getting darkness everywhere.”

Varian sprang up. A patch of black spread across the table like spilled ink. It licked over papers and test tubes, coating them. Shocked, he stared down at his gloved hands. “That’s not mine,” he mumbled.

“Heck of a time to lose control, don’t’cha think?” Hugo said, switching off the torch. He tugged his goggles down as he stood. “After everything we’ve been through, you should trust me.”

Varian stared into green eyes, drawn in like a magnet. Maybe it was the generator, maybe it was residual magic leftover from Demanitus’ time, but the chamber felt electric. “I’m not ready,” he whispered.

Hugo gave a glib shrug. “Little late for that, huh?” He flipped open the panels to the generator’s switches. “You wanna do the honors?”

Varian considered his hands, and if his touch would sabotage their plans. He crossed his arms and tucked hands under his armpits. “No, uh, I’m good. You should do it. This was mostly your idea, anyhow.”

“I am quite talented, aren’t I?” Hugo cracked his knuckles and threw the switches. The generator began to rumble. They looked at each other. This was the perilous moment where things tended to explode.

The test bulb’s filament hummed and became a warm, white light. Varian and Hugo grinned and ran up the stairs, chasing the current out to Corona at night. Eugene was right – cables obscured the roads every which way. Every fifteen feet, a cable led to a post capped with a bulb. There was a flow, bulbs illuminating from the palace down to the residences and then the market, moving out like a wave washing to sea. People stood watching the display, awe on their faces. The world filled with light, turning night to day in pure radiance.  

Varian stopped in the street, raising a hand to shield his eyes. He saw Hugo’s outline, white light forming a halo around his form. A crowd gathered, applauding and cheering. Eugene. Rapunzel. Even his father, towering above almost everyone. “That’s my boy!” yelled Quirin.

Though Varian smiled, the attention seemed overwhelming. Faces blended into one another, the congregation becoming a mob. Amongst the milling bodies, a familiar woman stood still, red hair waving in a non-existent breeze. “Mom!” Varian shouted. He started forward but lost her in the crowd. “No!” She kept slipping through his fingers, unattainable. “Stop!” he shouted, loud enough to shake the earth.  

The crowd ceased moving. The people of Corona parted down the center, stepping to either side of the street. In the middle of the roadway, Donella stood alone. The blade still hung at her hip. “Well, boy,” she drawled. “You certainly to dawdle.”  

Ulla had vanished. “You’re the one that brought up my mother!” Varian raged. His life had been simple yet full before Donella arrived. “I don’t know what you want! You sent me to find her and you’re not even helping!”

A smile looked wrong on Donella’s face. “How ungrateful. I’ve been helping you all along.”

Hugo stepped into the street to stand at her side. The light from all the bulbs made his blonde hair glow. He winked. “Hey, partner.” A gaggle of Saporians joined from behind as the people of Corona looked on.

Varian had nothing with him – no weapons, no plan, no escape route. He pleaded for help. “Dad? Rapunzel?” His father watched with sad eyes as Rapunzel shrieked, hands flying to her mouth.

Someone slipped their hand into Varian’s. “Don’t worry, son. I’m here.”

He turned to find his mother clutching his hand. Ulla’s eyes were pitch black, her gaze vacant and lifeless. He cried out and tried to pull away from her vicelike grip. Liquid black poured from her eyes like a wealth of tears, tracing down the front of her dress and splashing up Varian’s arm. With a yell, he yanked free and stumbled back.

The black spread, contaminating him. It saturated his clothing and gear, dripping down to his steel boots. From his heels, the darkness leeched out into the world. It blanketed the streets, crawled up the posts to extinguish the light bulbs, cascaded over people and buildings, spreading up to the stars and blotting out the moon.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Varian gasped. “It wasn’t my fault!” Blind in the dark, he grasped, finding nothing to cling to. “Hugo! Dad?” They’d been close by. No one spoke or reached out to him. Suffering sensory deprivation, Varian spiraled into a panic, hyperventilating in the vacuum he’d created.

“Varian?”

Struggling in the abyss, Varian opened his eyes and shot upright. Drenched in sweat and out of breath, he grabbed at his shirt, feeling his heart pound with the force of a mallet.

Yong blinked sleepily at him from the other side of the campfire. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“I... kinda,” Varian panted, struggling to calm himself. A dream. Just a dream.

Satisfied, Yong went back to sleep. A ringed tail poked out of Yong’s blanket. Across camp, Nuru slept on her side, the wound he’d given her visible on her cheek. Varian lay back down on his bedroll, wiping sweat beads from his throat. He wished he could wipe the images from his nightmare away so easily.

Ominous whispering caught his ear, and he faced Yong again. The whispers came from his bag. Varian got up, careful not to pull the stitches Yong sewed into his hip. As the boy slumbered, Varian pawed for the compass within Yong’s bag. His hand closed around the item, and he eased it out. Ruddiger picked his head up and squinted at Varian with accusatory eyes.

Compass in hand, Varian took an early hour stroll through the outskirts of Ingvarr, doubting all the choices he’d ever made. His reaction to the amber incident left an open wound he’d clawed into himself, and for whatever reason, he kept picking at the scab. He knew now that his involvement with the Saporians was only a ploy to use him. Andrew had never been his friend, though Varian certainly wanted to impress him.

He paused to look up at the moon.

… he’d wanted to impress Cassandra, too.

Varian’s stomach churned.

Had he harbored a crush on Andrew? Varian wondered if he had a type – Andrew, Cassandra, Hugo… taller, older people that ended up being trouble. Did the evil in him attract others of the same nature? Was he the antagonist in his own story, dooming himself further with each decision?

Uttering a bellow, he hurled the compass at the base of a tree. It clattered to the forest floor, where it began making a set of ticking sounds, like a music box gearing up. Varian retrieved the compass and inspected it. Nothing discernible had changed. After a matter of moments, the ticking stopped.

Nuru was right. He had to stop looking for answers in the compass. Following the needle was all it was good for. He’d gone into this quest backwards, thinking he’d deal with scientific quandaries. Instead, Demanitus placed symbolic and philosophical hurdles in his path. Varian sighed, giving in. To complete his journey, he’d have to heed his uncle’s words and pay closer attention to the mystical side of alchemy. “Prima Materia…” he muttered. The First Matter. What was it? Was his mother after old books or an ancient object? If she’d been involved in the occult, and Donella was the scientist, that explained their difference of opinion.

Exhausted, both physically and mentally, Varian went back to camp.

In the morning, Varian and Nuru dabbed a salve of Yong’s creation on their injuries while the boy and Ruddiger foraged in the woods. As Varian did up his vest, hypocritical guilt helped shed light on Hugo’s motivations. Though Hugo’d gone about it the wrong way, Varian believed he’d sincerely tried to help the best he could, given the circumstances. Varian could understand making poor decisions to save someone. “I miss him,” he whispered, fastening the last clasp.

“Who?” Nuru asked. Yong’s ointment shined over the mark on her cheek.

“Hugo.”

Nuru’s expression contained concern, but not anger.

Varian reflected over the loss of possibility, feeling an absence of something that had barely begun. He’d genuinely liked Hugo. More than liked him, which was why his betrayal cut so deep. Varian pressed his temples and groaned. “What kind of fool does that make me?”

“A human one,” said Nuru. She sighed and looked at him with pity. “Can’t help what gets under your skin sometimes.”

Yong, the pharmacologist's son, rejoined them, adding with a grin, “And then you get an infection.” He deposited a sack of berries at the campsite. Ruddiger’s muzzle was already smeared with juice.

Varian snorted at Yong’s joke. That sounded like Hugo, all right. “He wasn’t wrong.” At their confused expressions, he clarified. “I do let things affect me. I thought that was in my past, but… it’s always there. Like a splinter too deep to pull. There’s a part of me that I hate. And I don’t know how to get rid of it.” He yearned to talk with Hugo about it. He’d been the only person to encourage Varian embracing positive aspects of his secondary self.

After a quick berry breakfast, they set out towards the next kingdom. Varian guided them on memory, not wanting to open the compass again.

An immense shadow passed overhead. The group spun around. Behind them, an object soared through the sky. “Is that Hugo?” Varian asked, his heart filling with hope.

Nuru raised her telescope. “It’s a ship, but it’s too big to be Prometheus,” she said, dashing Varian’s wish. Looking through the eyepiece, she frowned. “Varian… what is that?” She passed Varian the optic, and he squinted into it.

He recognized the flamboyant style of a Saporian airship. It was suspended by a single balloon over the main deck. Propellers beat at the stern as it cruised deeper into Ingvarr, the direction they’d come from.  

Varian’s old rotary cannon was mounted underneath.

Chapter Text

“Again!” Varian yelled, peering through Nuru’s telescope. “Again, again!”

“Yeah, on it,” Yong confirmed, lighting another rocket full of Varinium. The wick burned down, and the rocket launched into the air, following the same trajectory as the previous one. Its cone smashed into the Saporian ship, contents setting the wooden stern ablaze in flames that crawled down as the substance dripped. Smoke billowed. The ship stalled midair, buying Varian’s group time. They ran towards it.

“That thing under the ship,” Yong huffed as he jogged. “What do you mean, it’s yours?”

Panic spun Varian’s mind in circles. As he sprinted, he almost tripped. “I made it to use on Corona. But they said they destroyed it!” Andrew’s group had taken it away after the establishment of New Saporia. Later, after Rapunzel returned, Varian forgot all about it. He couldn’t keep track of the scores of inventions he’d created. Most self-destructed on first use. Others had to be taken apart to reserve scrap.

“Who said?” Nuru asked, spear and telescope wobbling on her back as she ran.

“The Saporians I was working with.” He felt the gut-twisting knowledge that he gave Saporians access to his concoctions and the means to create them. Had he pried open Pandora’s Box by offering Saporians a taste of alchemy, leading them to make deals with Donella? Was this all his fault, his linage leading him down a wicked path? He had to stop them and take his weapon back before it did further damage.

Nuru gave him a vicious scowl. “And we walked out on Hugo over a couple of butterflies?”

Mouth already dry with guilt, Varian meekly uttered, “They were dragonflies…”

“Why would Saporians be way out here?” asked Yong. “Are they still after us?”

A clamp squeezed Varian’s chest. Hugo already sold them out. But the ship wasn’t heading in their direction. It was headed –

“My family!” Varian shouted. Desperation spurred him to run faster, pack bouncing on his back. “Hugo showed Donella where they were! That’s where they’re going! Yong! Another rocket!”

Yong stumbled to a stop and set up a third launcher. Within moments, it hurled through the air, falling just short of the now-moving ship, and landing harmlessly in a pond.

“No!” Varian screamed, running at full speed.

“Varian! Stop!” Nuru called from behind. “We’ll never catch it!”

“I have to!” The ship flew out of reach, each rapid step he took meaningless. Breath hitched in his throat as he barreled forward, tears blurring his vision. “I have to,” he sobbed.

A dot in the sky soared forward on a collision path with the Saporian ship. It grew minutely larger with each passing instant but remained absurdly small compared to the grand Saporian vessel. Daylight glinted off its patchwork hull. The easily maneuverable Prometheus swung around the aft side of the larger ship, releasing its new grappling claw. It sank into the Saporians’ suspension balloon and, as the ships passed, it recoiled, ripping a hole in the fabric. The big ship went into a steep, downward slope.

Prometheus slowed, sidling left and right, as if searching. Varian yanked his staff out of where it was wedged between his back and the pack and shot a purple smoke orb into the sky. It popped midair, forming a near-perfectly round ball of vibrant haze. The modest ship sailed towards the smoke, lowering the chain ladder over the side. Yong, Nuru, and Varian scaled it, Ruddiger hopping up their backs.

At the wheel, ponytail whipping in the wind, Hugo shouted over his shoulder, “Saporians are so elaborate. Honestly, who even needs that much ship?” He punched a button that drew the ladder up and spun the wheel to vacate the area.

“Wait!” Varian shouted, slipping out of his pack. The staff clunked to the deck. He tore past the helm, racing to the bow. “Take us towards that ship, then slow down as you pass!”

“Towards?” Hugo repeated in confusion.

“Towards!”

The Saporian ship suffered a rough landing, skipping off trees to soften its crash. It lay on one side, a crumbled forest surrounding it. Varian took his time, angling the grapple just so. He blew a leisurely breath and squeezed the release trigger. The grapple shot out, claw spreading out on its hinges. It closed over the exposed rotary cannon and tore it free from its base. Prometheus soared by, Saporians shouting vague insults up at them.

Varian didn’t bring the grapple back to its mount, letting it hang from its coil instead. He banged his way into the lower deck and pulled the bottom trapdoor open. It took some work to safety haul the cannon up through the trap, avoiding Prometheus’ thrusters. Once stowed, Varian examined the device. The Saporians had filled the cannon’s chambers with a corrosive substance, not unlike what was in the chemlight he wore, and Last Resort, the final orb to sit in the ring of his staff. They were lucky the entire cannon hadn’t dissolved to atoms during its retrieval. Though maybe that would have been best, destroying his wretched creation once and for all. He’d have to find a way to dispose of the material before disassembling it.

Throughout Varian’s hustling in the lower deck, he heard the others talking above.

“Hey, you found us pretty easily,” Yong said.

“Yeah, some kid made a scene by shooting a rocket into the air,” Hugo mentioned. “Tell me if you see somebody like that, ‘kay? Sounds like a troublemaker.”

“So… what?” asked Nuru. “You did some soul-searching, then decided to come back?”

“Not immediately, no.” Hugo sounded sheepish. “But I wasn’t just gonna leave you to whatever mess you were about to face.”

“Hmph,” Nuru grumbled. “How noble.”

“Hey, I’m a person, too,” Hugo insisted, anger creeping into his voice. “Folks forget that. And there are some things, other than stuff I can take, that matter to me.”

Things were quiet up top for a moment. “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Nuru agreed. “Thank you, Hugo.”

“I… uh, you’re welcome?”

“Can we unpack all the stuff we rushed to pack now?” Yong asked.

Nuru and Hugo both laughed. “Sure, kid,” said Hugo.

Varian slumped against a support beam. Nuru and Yong forgave Hugo so effortlessly. He didn’t blame them, seeing as Varian himself was clearly the bigger threat. Yong idolized him, he trusted Nuru’s judgement, and Hugo made him feel alive and purposeful. He’d rewarded them all by being unpredictable and dangerous. Remorse hung around his throat like a chain. Fresh tears welled behind his eyes.

Someone dropped into the lower deck, metal boots hitting the steel floor. Hugo ducked around the in-deck machinery, almost colliding with Varian. Yong’s bag of rockets hung from his hand. He must have been returning it to the onboard workshop. Varian stared, jaw tense, neurons firing, trying to find words. Hugo interpreted Varian’s silence. He set the bag down and threw his hands up in defeat. “Hey, I understand. I wouldn’t trust me, either. I made a mess of things and –”

The dam burst. Choking on a sob, Varian hopped up to toss arms around Hugo’s neck. Hugo stood stiff before slowly wrapping arms around his back. Varian relished the solid feel of Hugo’s lithe body, light blonde hair tickling his face. He felt like a thief himself, stealing this moment just because he wanted it.

“I, um, figured a daring rescue was worth more than an apology.” Hugo’s breath warmed the back of his neck. “Did I do okay?”

Varian slid down a little to press his cheek against Hugo’s chest and knotted fists in the back of his jacket. As if gleaning that something larger was at play, Hugo held him closer and kept quiet. Varian listened to the soothing, steady thump of Hugo’s heart. They stood there for a bit as Varian glued himself back together. Eventually, he peeled off and stepped back. He was glad he hadn’t started crying, maintaining some dignity. “How do I know anything is different?”

Hugo glanced off to the side. “You don’t. I… well, I guess I’ll have to show it.”

Varian did the calculations on a leap of faith. “I need more data before I can reach a conclusion. So… we’d better stick together ‘til then.”

Hugo refused to look at him. “I know I don’t deserve that,” he mumbled.

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

Hugo cocked his head and pointed at the cannon. “You steal from Saporians now? What, are you trying to do an impression of me?”

“It was mine first,” said Varian, still reeling. He gave a heavy sigh over the rotary cannon. Though his hands were responsible for its creation, it was safest with him. He thought about all the damage he’d done in his short lifetime, of the troubles he’d brought on people. “I’m worried about my dad, well, worrying about me,” he confessed. “Not knowing where I am, or if I’m even okay, must be pretty awful for him.”

Hugo walked past him to run a finger over his dragonfly supplies. The pieces made a tinkling sound. “Well, I’ve got a simple solution to that. Do you know the latitude and longitude of Corona, offhand?”

Finally, a question that didn’t pair with existential crisis. “I can give you palace-specific coordinates. We, well, kinda live there.”

“Hmm. Fancy.”

“And one to my cousins, warning them about the Saporians.”

Hugo’s cheeks definitely turned red. “I… I did that first. Then I came to find you.”

Varian could have hugged him again. As Hugo assembled one of his traveling dragonflies, Varian scrawled a letter and peppered him with questions. “How long has Donella been using Saporians?”

“Since always? Since I was fifteen or seventeen, at least. That’s when she hired me. Owes them something.”

“But you don’t know what.”

“That’s not how we talk. It’s more like, Go here, Take that, and less of, Guess what I did today. The Trials are heavy on the mysticism scale. Based on our experience, I’d say that tapping the Saps' knowledge of magic might have given her an upper hand throughout the years.”

“And you? Explain your part.”

Hugo seemed embarrassed, focusing on cranking Corona’s coordinates into the dragonfly. “I was supposed to watch you. Make sure you got through the Trials. Intervene if I had to, but keep you safe.”

Varian rolled the message up tight and handed it to Hugo. “Were you supposed to pretend to like me?” His heart wrung, waiting for the answer.

Hugo shook his head, sliding the note into the dragonfly’s thorax. “Blue… none of that was pretend,” he said in a voice so soft it was hard to hear. Green eyes flashed in Varian’s direction.

Varian turned fast enough to avoid them. He released a long, shaky breath he didn't realize he’d been holding. To cover awkward silence, he scratched his brow and backtracked. “You said fifteen or seventeen. Which puts you at…?”

“Twenty?” Hugo said. “Twenty-oneish? Best I can estimate. Was on the streets early enough to not know my age.”

Trying not to pity Hugo, Varian looked back. “Don’t suppose you know your birthdate?”

Hugo wore a sassy smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, ‘cause sometimes you ask dumb things.”

Varian’s face burned. Regardless, he held Hugo’s gaze, hunching his shoulders rather than turn away again. Dragonfly in his hands, Hugo headed to the main deck. Varian followed him to the forward railing. It was past dusk. Nuru stood back at the wheel, steering. The smell of dinner cooking wafted from the galley. Varian peered down, watching the forest rapidly pass beneath them.

“Glad to have the ship back, huh?” Hugo asked.

“I don’t care about the ship.” Varian closed his hands around Hugo’s, cupping the dragonfly between them. “There’s this part of me that’s busted. And you… you’re the guy that fixes things.” Hugo blinked at him. Blushing with shame, Varian dropped his eyes, understanding the weight of his request. “I’m sorry. That’s not your problem. I shouldn’t have said –”

“I’m up for it.” Varian looked up. Hugo’s hair rustled in the breeze. “Not that I’ve got a guide, but… what’s a little trial and error between friends?”

Remembering their conversation at the homestead, Varian gave a small, coy smile. “Friends, huh?”

Hugo mirrored Varian’s expression. “Meh. Something like that.” He raised his hands, taking Varian’s in tow. Together, they released the dragonfly to flutter into the evening. They remained side by side after it vanished, leaning over the rail. “So,” Hugo started, “why was that thing with the pokey spokes yours before it was in Saporian possession?”

Varian blinked at the night sky. It took a second to realize that Hugo was trying to describe the long barrels of the rotary cannon. “Oh, I… it was for defense… in Corona…” he partially fibbed.

Hugo snorted. “Boy, if you’re into anything, it’s your family members and Corona.”

“I owe people a lot. For a while, I was… well, kind of a menace,” Varian confessed. “Lost my way and did some awful stuff. But, I mean, sheesh, at least I never got anyone killed.” He did wince at the thought of how close he’d come.

“I did,” Hugo told the night.

An unpleasant shiver ran down Varian’s spine. “You… you killed somebody?”

Hugo’s eyes flicked down. “I, uh… yeah. Three people.”

Varian faced him fully. “Well, you can’t just blurt that without context.”

If he was expecting Hugo to be smug, or boastful, he was wrong. Hugo seemed to fold in on himself, becoming smaller and younger. “It was just a job. We did plenty of jobs – me, Geo, Bex, and Ash. All from the Pittsford underground. I built this little, petroleum-powered mouse. It would go into the walls of wherever we were, ya know, procuring items. Send out an alert if there were guards or traps. Worked fine up until it didn’t.” He shuffled, folding arms over his chest. “Remember when I told you I was wanted in Neserdnia?”

Varian nodded, not wanting to interrupt.

“Yeah, well… that’s where our last job was. Big Saporian haul from when the kingdom fell.” His eyes lost focus, looking into the past. “We did our thing, got in, started collecting, and that mouse… my mouse… stupid thing got stuck in the floor. Started shrieking. There was this sound, like a roaring hum. Don’t know what ignited, but… next thing I knew, half the building was gone, along with my three friends.” He tapped the scar on his brow. “S’where this came from. Other than that, I was fine. So… I finished the job.”

He stopped talking for a while. Just when Varian thought he was done, Hugo began again. “Donella sought me out after that. People talk. Sometimes, they get things right. Other times, they don’t. Who needs another kid thief underfoot when you can recruit someone ruthless enough to take out his own team to keep an entire treasure for himself?” He gave a grim smile. “That’s me – the guy that makes people trust him. That’s what happened, right? Right? If enough people say it, that makes it the truth? And once you’re already the bad guy, what’s a little more villainy?” Though he spoke plainly, his face was drawn, and he swallowed too often.

Varian recognized the manifestation of guilt. The difference was Varian’s acts had been intentional. Hugo’s instance was accidental. “Hugo… you didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

Hugo gave a tight shrug. “I’m the one that built that thing. Those were my friends that died while I was stuffing my bags full.” He gripped the railing, fingers digging in. “All I asked of Don was that she never put me on a crew. Not again. When it was just you, some mark I was tailing, that was fine. But then we picked up the kid and the princess, and… I’m still trying to not see the worst that could happen.”

Hugo’s constant refusal to add another to their group finally made sense. He carried the weight of three dead friends with him. And there were three others on the ship with him now.

Varian had always been very aware of how lucky he was that no one got seriously hurt during his exploits. Hugo wasn’t so fortunate. Varian had no idea how to keep going after that type of tragedy. Emotion clogged his throat, preventing him from speaking. He put a hand over Hugo’s and laced their fingers. Hugo squeezed, and Varian leaned against his side in companionable silence. It was hard not to feel like they were two miserable people that had failed to better themselves. They stared off into the night, their bleak pasts not distant enough. Varian hoped that, together, maybe they’d be able to pull themselves out of the wreckage of their lives.

Chapter Text

“I think my mom really is dead,” Varian said from behind his goggles. Using tongs, he submerged a corrosive orb from the cannon in cool, but not cold, water in a beaker. Over time, the components would separate, then they could be neutralized.

Hugo’s zany goggles turned in his direction. “What makes you say that?” The neutralizing solution sat in a bowl in front of him at the lower deck’s alchemy lab. Hazy wisps curled over the rim as hazardous substances diffused inside.

Varian gently swirled the beaker. “There was never any proof to say otherwise. Only what I wanted to believe.” He felt silly, letting a stranger convince him to leave Corona without evidence.

“What about the compass?”

“I don’t want to get near that thing.” Ulla’s compass sat in its mount at the helm. Since Varian never steered, he didn’t come in contact with it. Simple proximity to it pulled at the threads of his sanity. “I just don’t get Donella’s goal. She already did the Trials. Well, most of them. She owns the same totems we do. Why taunt me about my mom?” He set the beaker down and stared at Hugo. The magnifying lens in his goggles warped one side of his vision, making him see two different Hugos of varying sizes.

“Hey, don’t ask me. My job was you, not the rest of this expedition. Heck, the Saporians probably know more than I do.”

They’d opened the stern window to air out the space. A mechanical dragonfly darted in through the frame and zipped around the workshop until Hugo caught it. “Yeesh,” Varian said as Hugo slipped a note from the metal insect. “At least I knew what it was this time.” He read over Hugo’s shoulder.

Saporians are held up. D is fuming. It’s just you now. - C

“Held up,” Hugo snorted. “I’ll say. Their ship was held up before I downed it.”

“Who’s C?”

“Cyrus. Donella’s second.” Hugo frowned. “He doesn’t usually send these. Means Donella’s busy with something else.”

“Isn’t it obvious that the other ship was yours?”

“No rule that the Saporians need to know everything, including that Prometheus is mine. It’s called Playing All Sides, Blue. In any case –” He turned a winning smile on Varian. “Looks like I’m chief bad guy at the moment.”

“Sure thing, chief.” Varian swatted him in jest.

Hugo caught his fist and held it. “You mock me?”

“Oh, I do.” Varian tugged half-heartedly to get his hand back.

A slick smile spread across Hugo’s face. “The audacity.”

It was wonderful, Varian decided, to do a project with someone while having bigger things on the horizon and still be able to enjoy themselves in between. This was everything he could want.

“Varian?” Nuru called from above. “Is it supposed to look like this?”

Both Varian and Hugo stopped playing and headed up, removing their goggles. Up in the sky, the day was clear and bright, looking optimistic compared to the ground below. They flew over a chasm separating The Dark Kingdom from the rest of the countryside. No trees grew this side of the divide, the ground sporting cracked earth and immense craters half-filled with muddy water, reminding Varian of Koto’s decimation. The black rocks were all gone. “Yeah,” he answered Nuru. “It’s, well, depressing… but normal.”

“How do you know?” Yong asked, watching over the side.

Prometheus sailed shoulder-height to enormous, crumbling Dark Brotherhood statues that stood like mountains. Varian recognized them as sporting his father’s armor. “My dad’s from here.”

“Well, your homeland stinks,” said Hugo. Nuru elbowed him hard. “Oof. What? Just stating the obvious.”

“No, I’m not from here,” Varian corrected. “He is.”

“My Ye Ye says you take your land with you whatever you go,” said Yong, staring at the figures in wonder. “It becomes a piece of who you are.”

“This place,” Nuru said, suppressing a shiver. “It feels like Koto. In a bad way.” She frowned at the compass and angled the ship towards the angular stronghold that housed the castle.

“Wait… is that where the magic do-dad was?” Hugo asked, jerking a thumb at the palace.

“Yeah,” Varian said. "Seems with the Moonstone gone, the rocks receded. Now it’s just… ugly.” The castle stood like a charcoal cathedral plunked down in the midst of nowhere. As they approached, Varian saw the gate was raised. “Ugly and abandoned.”

“Isn’t that convenient?” Nuru muttered, bringing the ship in.

“Small wonder,” Hugo added. “Seems like a poor investment.” He and Nuru worked to moor Prometheus to a spindly spire.

“Yong?” Varian asked. “Can you bring me my journal?” As the boy dashed off, Varian cupped his chin in contemplation. It wasn’t impossible that the palace would be left unattended. The Dark Kingdom held little but bad memories and barren land. Even King Edmond spent a great deal of time in Corona, visiting his son and daughter-in-law. Could take a full generation until the memory of King Edmond’s actions were forgotten and forgiven. Nothing of value remained here.

“Here ya go,” Yong said, handing the journal over. Ruddiger came with him and rubbed between Varian’s ankles.

“Thanks.” Varian flipped to the section on the fifth Trial, the fifth stage of alchemy. Fermentation, he’d written. The substance gets broken down. Two parts – decay and purification, death and rebirth.

In typical fashion, Ulla’s maddening notes read, Galcrest without being Galcrest. The Dark Kingdom, but not. Beyond that. It’s not what, but who.

“What’s Galcrest?” Yong asked, reading.

“The Dark Kingdom before the Moonstone touched down.” Varian looked at Nuru as she and Hugo came over. Koto’s Sundrop and Moonstone were ancient. The Dark Kingdom was simply old in comparison. He read Donella’s note aloud. “Transform the lead of the self into the gold of the spirit”.

“Ah,” Hugo said. “The ol’ Emerald Tablet again. Well, I do enjoy gold.” He traced a fingertip over the gold orbital cuff in his ear.

“No Matter the Company, You Go Alone,” Varian recited.

“Who said that one?” Nuru asked.

“Demanitus.” Varian closed the journal. He frowned, not enjoying what that alluded to. “Lemme guess – the compass points to the castle.”

“Indeed,” Nuru confirmed.

Varian paused, considering his little group before telling them, “Demanitus said, Go Alone. So, I think whoever does this Trial… they’re doing it by themselves.” Hugo and Nuru looked at each other, then down at Yong. So far, they’d all been together when tackling a Trial, even if some did better than others.

Turning to the compass, Varian sighed. He didn’t want to touch it, but they would need it to find their way.

“I’ll take it,” Hugo said, lifting the compass from its mount.

“Thanks,” Varian muttered. Hugo gave him a reassuring clap on the back.

They left with Nuru’s spear, Yong’s crackers, Varian’s staff, and Hugo carrying the ship’s final dagger in his boot. Ruddiger rode on Yong’s shoulder. They filed in through the castle’s yawning entrance. Hugo stopped, glaring down at the compass. “Blue… I told you this thing was broken.”

“Why? What do you mean?” Varian leaned over to check. The needle was spazzing out, jiggling on its base, swinging wildly from one direction to another.

Hugo backed out of the front gate and came back in. “Yeah, worked fine out there.” He closed the box and stuffed it in the holster pocket where he kept his collapsible wrench. “So much for that.”

Varian wanted to bury his head in his hands. The compass kept letting him down, failing to do one simple thing. “Okay,” he said, trying to pump himself up. “Well, the inscription always comes first. We find that, then we worry about who does the Trial.”

“Big, ominous castle,” Hugo observed. “Lots of places we could miss. Sucks that the compass sucks.”

“Maybe we spilt up?” Yong suggested.

Nuru’s brows drew together. “I don’t like that idea.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Hugo grumbled.

“Teams, then?” Varian offered.

The others nodded. Ruddiger trilled in agreement. “Let me guess,” Nuru said to Varian, a shrewd smile spreading. “You and Hugo, Yong and I?”

Hugo threw an arm around Varian’s shoulders. “Great idea, Princess,” he said. He rapped knuckles against the head of her spear and led Varian down a hallway. “Happy hunting.”

“Careful!” Varian said, turning around. He recalled his father’s stories of The Dark Kingdom’s history. “This place has all kinds of hidden traps. Eyes peeled and soft steps. Ruddiger! Paws to yourself!”

Nuru’s face grew serious. She led Yong and Ruddiger in the other direction, using the end of her spear to check ahead of her.

Varian borrowed her idea, using the edge of his staff to tap against suspicious-looking doorways and thresholds. They walked down a long corridor flanked by armor on display. Everything in the palace had been decorated in sharp points and hard angles. Even empty, it gave the impression of being a hazardous and hostile place. The floor, worn to a polish, shined like obsidian beneath their boots. Stained glass windows depicting various warriors lined the walls, filling the castle with beams of indigo and amethyst light. “It’s, uh, pretty,” Varian mentioned. “In a creepy way.”

“Does this, I dunno… feel like anything?” Hugo asked, checking out the armor.

Varian gave him a quick glance. “No. Is it supposed to?”

“Just wondering.”

Varian stopped and looked at him. “Is this about Yong’s story and my dad being from here?”

Finding nothing of note, Hugo faced him. “Hey, I’m not the one suffering bad voodoo around the compass. Either it’s the compass that’s making you freak out, or you’re doing it on your own. You ask yourself why?”

“Plenty.”

“And?”

Varian dropped his gaze. “I don’t know.”

Glancing around, Hugo said, “Not like I believe in cursed objects or bad luck that travels through generations, but… I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Varian hugged the staff close to his chest. He regretted telling Hugo about his fight with Nuru in the woods. “About me?”

“No, Blue. I…” Hugo put a hand on Varian’s shoulder and brushed it down his arm. “I’m just worried.”

It was a sappy, touching moment that took Varian by surprise. “Wow. I made the bad guy worry.” He grinned. “Guess every curse has its perks.”

The smile Hugo gave was narrow and insolent. “Jerk.”

Varian checked the doors at the end of the hall. Satisfied they were safe, he opened them. The Dark Kingdom’s throne room was a round, vaulted space full of destruction. Circling the room, the remnants of statues lay smashed to limestone piles. The only clean area was a flat plinth in one corner, awaiting a figure that would never be built. The ring-and-dash symbol of The Dark Brotherhood occupied the floor. All his dad’s stories, coupled with Rapunzel and Eugene’s, rolled through Varian’s head. He swung around, glancing about in quick jerks.

“What are you looking for?”

“Um, ghosts.” Hugo cackled. “No, really.”

Hugo leaned against a narrow set of double doors. “Cool. And I’ll look for Santa Claus. I think I’ve been a good boy this year.”

No ghosts. Then again, no Moonstone to protect.

The Moonstone.

Varian prodded Hugo out of the way and opened the doors. A thin, broken bridge stopped after a few feet, the rest of the deep chamber vacant. “This was where the Moonstone was,” Varian breathed. He stepped onto the short walkway. A section of stone depressed under his foot.

A long, rusted baton sprang out of a wall. “Blue!” Hugo grabbed Varian’s hand and yanked him hard, back into the throne room. The baton swung outwards over the bridge in a sweeping arc, then withdrew.

“Whoa,” Varian noted, peering over the ledge. The bottom was indiscernible. “Long drop.” He gave Hugo a timid smile. “Boy, Donella sure sent the right guy. Thanks.”

Hugo’s face was hard. “Don’t joke. That wasn’t fun for me.” He kept hold of Varian’s hand and drew him away from the doors until they stood in the center of The Dark Brotherhood symbol, free from rubble.

Varian knew how much his safety, as well as Nuru and Yong’s, meant to Hugo. Fighting a wince, he squeezed Hugo’s hand. “Sorry. I… I’m just really glad you’re here.”

Hugo’s gaze floated down to their joined hands. “I don’t care about the Trials, the Library, any of it. I care about you. You give my dumb life meaning.” He rolled his eyes, tossing his head back in exaggeration. “Jeez, Blue. Look what you’re doing to me.” Lettering scrolled by in his glasses’ reflection.

Varian dropped his staff to snag Hugo by the collar and pull him closer. Startled, Hugo’s eyes widened. No more letters danced across his lenses. Varian thought about angles. He looked over his shoulder and up. An inscription encircled the ceiling of the chamber, running the entire circumference of the room. “Ha,” Varian laughed in delight. “It’s here! Guys!” he shouted towards the open throne room doors. “Guys, we found it!”

He swung his head back around to catch Hugo wearing a crooked smile. “Not my choice of romantic venues,” Hugo cracked. “But the company is top-notch.”

Varian realized how close he was holding Hugo, gripping him by the hand and collar. Heat flushed through him. Elated by finding the inscription in this mess of a place, a giddiness filled Varian’s being. He had the next step, the ship back in their custody, and Hugo at his side. With light-headed anticipation, he tugged Hugo’s collar even more. Varian’s heart pounded so loud the entire world might hear it. He tilted his head.

A hand clamped onto Hugo’s shoulder from behind. Giving a soft grunt, Hugo nudged a half-step forward. “That’s weird,” he muttered, gaze flicking down. Varian’s eyes darted to the tip of a blade poking through the chest of Hugo’s jacket, and a spreading redness. The blade receded. Hugo released Varian’s hand and dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

Varian grabbed at the fabric of Hugo’s jacket and sank down alongside him. They locked eyes. Hugo seemed more confused than scared. “No. No!” Varian screamed as Hugo’s lids drooped and his body went lax. “Wait,” he pleaded. “Hugo, wait! No. Please!” Hugo’s head lolled back in a boneless roll. Varian shook him. “Wait! Wait!”

The only sound in the throne room was Varian’s ragged breathing. He sat in icy shock. There’d been no last words or confessions, just finality concluded too fast to process. He looked up to see Donella standing over them, wiping her blade clean on a cloth. “Tick tock, little one,” she said. “Time’s running out.”

Chapter Text

Hot tears spilled down Varian’s face, dripping dark spots onto the shoulder of Hugo’s jacket. He knelt in the center of the Dark Brotherhood symbol, hugging Hugo’s body to him. There wasn’t as much blood as he expected. Hugo died too quick, pierced heart ceasing to pump.

A scuffle of footsteps made him look up. Nuru skid to a halt and screamed before grabbing Yong and turning him away. Ruddiger ran a few feet further, then stopped. Animals knew when things were wrong. A barrel-chested man stepped from the shadows to snag both Nuru and Yong, keeping them from interfering. Hugo’d mentioned the name of Donella’s follower, but it was hard for Varian to think clearly. “How did you find us?” Nuru shrieked.

The look Donella gave her was calm and unbothered. She still held the blade. “This was the next location. All I had to do was wait.”

“Why would you hurt Hugo?” Yong asked, voice pinched in a high octave.

“He fulfilled his purpose – to be charming and easy to manipulate.” 

A void yawned open inside of Varian, making him trade tears for numbness. “He did everything you asked for. Spied on us. Sent you messages. He didn’t even mess up. I’m here, just like you wanted.”

“Oh, please,” Donella said in a brusque tone. “Hugo’s information was minimal, at best. But that was never the point of his involvement.” She slid the blade back into its sheath at her hip. “I started the Trial for you, and no one had to argue about who it was.”

Varian's gaze went back to Hugo. He placed a gloved hand over the wound, obscuring it. “The point wasn’t to get me here,” he deduced, lifting his head. “It was to get both of us here. You always meant to kill him.”

Donella glared down at Varian. “I couldn’t risk you’d be the one to play hero.” She crouched at his level, arms resting on her knees. “Prove your acumen, Royal Engineer – why would I do that?”

Varian forced his sluggish brain to find a reason. The fifth stage of alchemy was the destruction of a compound. Ulla’s notes read, It’s not what, but who, and Demanitus said, No Matter the Company, You Go Alone. The Dark Trial was about… “Death,” he whispered, stomach sinking. “This Trial… someone had to die…”

With an approving smirk, Donella stood. “Good, boy. Good.”

A haze of red pulsed around Varian’s vision to each beat of his heart. “Last time you were here, did you murder my mother the same way?”

Donella’s poise drained. She took a step back, looking stunned. “How dare you!” She recovered, spitting, “You think you’re the first to lose someone? After all I’ve done, you should be grateful. Instead, you throw insinuations like the petulant child you are.”

Varian eased Hugo to the ground and stood. Disjointed thoughts banged through his head, his Darkness screaming to be freed. “After all you’ve done? All you have done is take people I care about away from me. What do you gain from any of this? Why keep hurting me when I’ve done nothing to you?”

“Listen to yourself, foolish boy,” Donella bit. “Everything you say is a question. So far, I’ve taken nothing that can’t be retrieved. Do you have the elements?”

“You’ll never get them!” Nuru cried in defiance. She tried to level a kick at her captor, but he held her out of reach.

The staff was easily within range, but Varian didn’t choose it. Instead, he pulled Hugo’s dagger, turning the point at Donella. “You’re not taking anything else!”

She cocked a brow, angling her body in preparation should Varian strike. “You have none of Ulla’s genius. She’d be drastically disappointed in how you turned out.” The barb hit its mark, and the dagger quivered in Varian’s hands. “I don’t need your totems,” she said. “Right now, you’re the one that requires them.”

“Something went wrong here,” Varian panted, dread spiraling within him. “You didn’t do the last two Trials.” His gaze slid to Nuru and Yong, trying to figure out a way to help them from so far away. He dropped the dagger and dove for the staff. Donella moved with him, and they both latched onto the staff’s shaft.

“Boy, look at me,” she said, yanking on the staff as Varian fought her. “Look at me! I’m trying to help you!” She was wiry, but strong.

“Do the Saporians really want the totems,” Varian snarled, pulling, “or was that another ruse?” As they battled, Ruddiger slinked closer, nestling beside Hugo.

Donella adjusted her stance, trying to twist the staff out of Varian’s grip. “They believe all mystical items are theirs by birthright. And they aren’t wrong.” She kicked out, striking Varian in the ribs. His hands opened in reflex as he stumbled. Donella held his staff, Last Resort glowing in the center of the ring. “Saporia fell for a simple reason – magic without science lacks longevity. Yet, without it, alchemy is just potions and rudimentary engineering.”

“What is your obsession with magical items?” Varian wheezed, clutching his side.

“I need them!” Hurt flickered across her face, a vulnerability that instantaneously dissipated. “As do you. You can get them back. Both of them. Ulla and Hugo.”

Varian straightened, ignoring the throb in his side. “What? How?”

“Look up, dolt,” she said, pointing the staff above her head.

The inscription. Varian had to stand back and turn to read the entire thing properly.

Though One is Gone, Don’t Lose the Fight

Use Black, Red, Yellow, and White

To Create an Elixir of Light

And Send a Soul to Solve Your Plight

“Light?” he mumbled, rereading the words. “What…? I don’t understand.”

“Think,” Donella urged. “What is in your possession? What are their transcendent capabilities?”

Varian grit his teeth. Though he hated her, Donella and his mother were experts, and if there was a chance she was telling the truth, he needed to heed her instruction. “Black… the hematite.”

“Used to renew energy.”

“Red. The seaweed-like substance from the Water Trial.”

“Organic enchantment.”

“Yellow. Sundrop sap.”

“Healing.”

“White. The snakeskin.”

“Transformation.”

“I’m… supposed to make something from them?” He gawked at the inscription and shook his head. “I’m not following. What does it mean by Light?”

“The concoction often goes under a different translation,” Donella explained. “An elixir, yes, but one more infamous.”

Realization dawned, and Varian’s eyes bugged. “Components for The Elixir of Life? That’s what we’ve been collecting? But neither of you wrote about –”

“Of course, we didn’t,” Donella said. “If anyone had known, we’d have been followed relentlessly. Hunted. Tortured for information. But two women questing for the joy of science? No one gave us a second thought.” She tilted her head, gaze boring into Varian. “Are you listening now?”

Cowed, the fight left his body. As the adrenaline faded, his limbs felt heavy. “I… yes. Tell me what to do.”

Donella set the staff on the ground and snapped for the release of Nuru and Yong. The instant they were freed, they ran over. Yong gazed at the inscription, lips pursed. “But it says Light. Why switch the word?”

“Did Demanitus even write this?” Nuru asked, looking up. “People lived here, right? Maybe somebody changed it?”

The Dark Kingdom had been rebuilding for centuries. Was it a mistranslation? The inscriptions followed two different rhyming patterns, as if written by separate people. Demanitus’ disciples? “There’s no other choice,” Varian told them. “We have to follow the instructions, no matter what the meaning.”

Donella’s bodyguard stood silent but nearby, his steady gaze on the group as Donella told them, “The Dark Kingdom has a history of trapping souls, imprisoning them for later use. How far would you go for someone who deceived you?”

Varian stared down at Hugo. His eyes were closed and Ruddiger had curled into the crook of his neck. Donella spoke of necromancy, the darkest of black arts. Varian didn’t understand magic, or how to implement it. But shortcomings wouldn’t stand in the way of him trying. He met Donella’s gaze. “As far as it took.”

Her smile was barely a crease. “Good to hear. Because that’s what you’ll have to do.” She stepped back, almost to the entry. “Look down. Do you know what that is?”

Scanning the ground, Varian saw the ringed Dark Brotherhood design. He looked at Nuru. “It’s a circle.”

Nuru’s eyes sharpened. “Like a ritual circle? For summoning?”

“Or channeling energy.” Varian’s knowledge of magical practices were severely limited. “Help us,” he implored Donella.

Her long braid swung as she shook her head. “I can’t.”

Varian’s fists squeezed tight, the muscles in his forearms twitching. “Stop lying. You won’t.”

“That’s not how any of this works!” she said. “You have to earn the right to access the arcane. You can’t just have someone hand it to you. Alchemy sits at the intersection of science and magic.”

“I don’t do magic!”

“Who told you that an alchemist could have one without the other?” Donella barked. “You’d stand there and say you’ve never done the unthinkable, or experienced a vision from beyond? We both know that’s a lie.”

Varian’s mouth slammed shut. No one told him anything. He was self-taught. He’d assumed… wrong. Everything the journey taught him stood in contrast to his beliefs. Though he knew Donella was talking about the compass, an older, more disturbing memory sprang forth. Years ago, Zhan Tiri could have appeared to anyone. But she chose Varian. Ulric said something about him being marked. Did magic travel through bloodlines, making him a target? Varian felt winded, adrift. “My mother… she really was The Woods Witch.”

Donella uttered a disgruntled huff. “That silly story. As if anyone understood her the way I did. Without her, my work suffers. Our work. If you want to see her, or him –” she swung her jaw at Hugo “– again, get started. I’d say you have a few hours left.”

“What happens in a few hours?” Yong asked. He looked very young with his hands clasped and his head lowered.

Her gaze raked over her slain operative. “That body will be beyond salvation.” She kicked the staff back to Varian. It rattled across the floor. She and her guard turned to leave.

“Wait!” Varian called after her. “Where are you going? And what is Prima Materia?”

Donella glanced over her shoulder. “My boy. That’s the goal. And I’ll join when we need each other.” She turned, adding as she departed, “Mind that you don’t bungle things and join Hugo forever.”

Send a Soul, the inscription stated. He had to go after Hugo, but… not physically. Hugo died within the circle. If it really was a channel to elsewhere, someone could follow. Hypothetically. “Yong, I need you to go back to the ship,” Varian said. “Bring the totems. And… and the Fish Spit from the lab.”

Yong blinked. “Are you sure about that?”

If Ruddiger recovered from the paralytic toxin from the Water Trial, Varian could too. He started naming things fast. “I also need hydrochloric acid to dissolve the totems. A burner. A rapid coolant. Alcohol, or ammonium chloride, or –”

“Varian,” Yong said, stopping his blather. “I know what to use.”

Varian began nodding and didn’t stop. “Right.” He felt disconnected from his body. “Right.”

Yong raced out of the chamber. Nuru put a hand on Varian’s shoulder, saying, “Hey –”

He crouched, sliding his arms under Hugo’s. Ruddiger scampered out of the way. “Help me move him.” Nuru took Hugo’s legs. He was surprisingly heavy. Together, they moved Hugo’s body to an empty plinth in the throne room. Its large, flat surface was big enough to accommodate a tall, dead boy. Varian sat on the curved edge of the plinth. His gloves were stiff with blood. He held them up and away from him. “He was holding my hand…” he said in a small voice. Nuru gave him a pained glimpse. A lump in his throat threatened to choke him. “Just give me a minute.”

She stepped back, keeping eyes on Varian. “Yong’s probably struggling with the equipment. I’ll go help. Will you be okay?”

Fractures formed in Varian’s foundation, threatening to break him apart. “No. But I’ll see you in a sec.” As soon as Nuru left the chamber, he ripped his gloves off, the rubber snapping. Hours. He had mere hours to fix this. After then…

He slammed bare hands on the plinth and screamed a raw sound that tore at his throat. His sound of distress echoed in the high, empty room. Ruddiger watched with shining eyes beneath a pile of debris. Shaking and shallow breaths followed. If Varian started crying now, he’d never stop. A miscalculation could leave Nuru and Yong with two dead friends. In the vast throne room, he felt unprepared and insignificant, his task impossible. He wanted his father.

Corona was far away, but Hugo had the compass. Despair drove Varian to pull it free from his holster. With ashen skin and bloodless lips, Hugo didn’t look asleep. Varian opened the compass. Its needle dangled freely, no matter the angle. He closed the compass’s box and pressed it to his heart. “Mom,” he whispered. “Is he with you?” His voice broke. “Mom, I’m scared.”

A whisper of confidence rang in his ear. “Oh, Varian. Don’t be afraid. I believe in you, and all the wonderful things you have in store.” His eyesight drifted to one side. Ulla knelt on the plinth beside him, skirts pooling around her knees. She smiled and reached as if to brush hair from his face. Unable to physically connect, her hand withdrew.

Varian hated that the feelings of loss and distress were familiar. But he’d turned grief into determination before and could do it again. “I can get through this,” he told her. “But the cost… If I push myself, I don’t know what will happen, or if I can come back from that. I’m not strong enough to control the Darkness.”

“So, get better at it,” Ulla said, using Hugo’s words from the homestead. “Why pause when you’re on the brink of a breakthrough?”

“Someone could get hurt,” he argued.

“Someone did get hurt,” she reminded in a gentle tone. She looked so real, long hair billowing in soft waves, sky-blue eyes filled with faith.

Varian gulped and looked down, clutching the compass until his knuckles turned white. “Am I losing my mind?”

“I can’t answer that, baby. I’m not really here.”

Varian raised his head. Ulla was gone. He had to pull himself together. Wallowing would only hold him back, and he required every advantage. He had work to do. Hugo needed him. He returned the compass to the holster. “Hang in there,” he told Hugo, fixing his askew glasses. “I’m coming.”

He brought his boots up onto the plinth and crossed his legs, hands settling in his lap. Closing his eyes, Varian willed his Darkness to unfold, filling the expanse of his being with a solid wall of hurt. He searched in that pit, finding the counterpoint within his pain. Nerves and doubt melted away, leaving only clarity and purpose. His breathing evened out, muscles unlocking.

“Varian?” Nuru asked, her voice cutting through his trance. She and Yong must have returned. “Are you ready?”

He opened his eyes, hands steady, mind sharp. “Absolutely.”

In the center of the circle, the three of them labored quickly to create the Elixir. Varian led them through the process in brisk tones, focused. Breaking the hematite down was the first step, as it would take the longest, turning it from a solid mass back into a liquid. The seaweed came apart easily, and the Sundrop sap worked to create a thick concoction. The snakeskin dissolved immediately, thinning the mixture into an easily pourable consistency. 

The potion sat in a flask, looking unimpressive. “Something’s missing,” Varian muttered.

“We used the items,” Yong said. “What else are we supposed to do?”

Nuru pressed a finger to her chin. “The answer is here. Just think.”

Varian picked the flask up and cradled it in his hands. They’d made the dough but didn’t fire it. “It needs an activator.” Magic. How in the world was he supposed to use magic? He thought of Ulric’s words from the storeroom, of times he’d somehow forced magic into difficult projects. Varian closed his eyes and thought of what he’d seen along the journey. Yong’s enthusiasm in Bayangor’s Temple of the Ancients. Hugo’s unwavering courage during the Water Trial. Nuru easily climbing Star Bloom Mountain. His cousins’ projects in the laboratory in Ingvarr. Prometheus returning to rescue them. The way Hugo had looked under lavender light before Donella sacrificed him.

“Varian!” Yong exclaimed in a rush of breath.

“Shh!” Nuru quickly silenced him.

The flask grew warm in Varian’s hands. When he opened his eyes, the substance was emitting pure light, like one of the bulbs from his dream. “The Elixir of Light,” Varian whispered in awe.

“Varian, I don’t know what happened,” Nuru said, “but –”

“Your weird, blue hair got super bright!” Yong cried.

Varian tore his gaze from the flask. “It did? Huh.” He always worked alone and had no way to know if the occurrence happened before. He’d expected magic to be more complicated – special words, or extravagant gestures. All he’d done was skim an emotional reservoir. But the flask proved his success. Donella was right – if Varian had volunteered to give his life for this Trial, no one else could have created the elixir. In the end, Hugo’d been the correct choice. The Darkness held emotional conflict at bay. Varian would be mad later when he had the luxury.

They walked over to where Hugo lay on the plinth. “Okay… so…” Varian tilted the flask. A single drop spilled from the spout. The bead of light fell and stopped midair, hovering over Hugo. Varian poured more out. It wasn’t exactly a liquid, more like a sentient swarm of insects, particles of light moving, spreading out and weaving, forming a mesh. A shroud of shimmering golden light sank down, encasing Hugo. It absorbed into his skin, making him sparkle in a dazzling gilded hue. A part of Varian’s brain registered that he was shiny, and that Hugo would like that. The gold of the spirit, Donella had quoted in her notes.

Varian went back to the center of the circle and sat down. Nuru handed him the jar of toxin. He took it, thumb tracing over the Fish Spit label written in Hugo’s elegant cursive. Ruddiger crawled into his lap, giving him concerned eyes. This venom slowed respiration in Ruddiger until it was undetectable, but only for a matter of hours. Varian didn’t know what to expect when ingesting it. The idea of pain frightened him, but losing Hugo was unacceptable. He clutched the jar. “If I’m not back in a few hours…”

“We’ll keep waiting,” Yong affirmed, eyes damp. He and Nuru leaned down to hug him.

Varian unscrewed the lid and estimated a dose of the toxin as best he could. He tipped the jar back and swallowed a portion. It tasted briny, and he cringed as it stung his throat the way the sip of absinthe had. Green eyes next to green liquid flashed by in memory.

Long moments ticked by as he waited anxiously for the toxin to take hold. Nuru and Yong stared at each other, then back at Varian in anticipation. His fingers tapped the sides of the jar. “Ugh,” Varian groaned. “Why is this tak –”

A wave of black stole his vision. Far away, he heard the sound of breaking glass and people shouting his name.

Chapter Text

Varian had taken enough spills to recognize the sensation of freefall. He tumbled through air and landed hard enough to knock the wind out of him. A sticky substance clung to him as he pushed himself up.

The realm he found himself in was devoid of color. A stormy grey sky packed with cloud cover touched ground of flat earth blemished with slicks and pits of a bubbling, pitchy substance. Varian rubbed it between his fingers. It was almost like grease mixed with ink, glossy and black and slightly gooey. Acrid steam hissed in bleached, shoulder-high plumes, obscuring the surroundings. Varian peered down at his hands and the rest of himself. His skin was the color of parchment, the rich teal of his clothing dulled to greyscale. He pulled the chemlight out from under his shirt. It was just a glass vial with liquid inside that emitted neither hue nor brightness.

He tucked the chemlight away and kept his wits about him. This wasn’t the first time Varian visited one of Demanitus’ astral planes. If the Lost Realm represented chaos, this place represented depression. He knew it wasn’t an afterlife, just a holding pen specifically built to serve The Dark Kingdom’s needs. His dad had spun yarns about an army of the dead kept in inertia, ready to traverse into the real world should they need to defend the Moonstone. Rapunzel and Eugene told him the army had been defeated, so it was highly probable that the realm served no further motive other than to trap those daring to follow Demanitus’ Trials. Meaning the space was finite, not an entire globe, only utilizing what was needed. If the circle really was a channel, Varian should have materialized practically on top of Hugo. Since he wasn’t there, that meant he could move on his own accord, and couldn’t have gotten far.

“Hugo!” Varian called, steaming mist crawling in the distance. He chose a direction and walked, boots squishing through the substance on the ground. The substance writhed and recoiled, slipping away like water reversing in flow. Varian stared at it in wonder. “It’s an environmental reaction,” he muttered. The dark sludge moved like underwater plants, slowly creeping, winding, and reestablishing, creating new pools elsewhere, avoiding Varian’s path. He tilted his head. Did magic have the ability to cause a level of awareness, or was the substance’s response more like a reflex? His brain throbbed with questions.

A tendril of darkness whipped out from one of the stagnant pools. Varian hopped out of reach before it could snare his boot. He froze, unsure of how to proceed – if he kept walking, he’d encounter more of the apparently hostile sludge, but staying put defeated the purpose of his visit. Now more than ever, Varian wished for a mentor. Donella was doubly evil for leaving him again, Uncle Ulric didn’t have the mystical knowledge to assist him, and Lord Demanitus was long gone. “I need some help here,” he confessed, hands closing around the strap of his goggles. “I messed up some of the Trials. And I… this is the one I can’t ruin!” he shouted, tears threatening. Why would someone as renowned as Demanitus orchestrate such an atrocious test?

“Greatness does not come from knowledge,” a man said. “It’s the perseverance of the spirit that sets an individual apart.”

Surprised, Varian whirled. At first glance, he swore that the looming, caped man that approached from within the white mist was his father. It was all he could do to keep from running into his arms. “Dad?”

A kind smile curved the man’s mouth. “I’m only a father of invention. Yet I confess, many individuals have sought my teachings.” The smile waned, and he took on a more serious expression, face partially hidden by a steel plate affixed to his head like a metallurgist’s eyepatch. “One of my disciples called to me. Are you stuck on one of my riddles?”

“One of your disciples?” Varian repeated. “I’m not anyone’s –”

He forgot to breathe, though that really didn’t matter here. The laboratory in Corona. The tome that sat in Prometheus’ cabin. The countless inventions he’d assembled from fading parchment. This infernal quest. “You – you – you – you’re Demanitus!” Varian stuttered. “You were the first to discover the Moonstone in Galcrest. You were there when it happened. You know about Koto! And… wait. Are you dead? I thought you were a monkey.” He felt honored and immensely confused.

Demanitus’ singular eye sparkled with amusement. “Are you dead, my boy?”

“I… well… just enough, I guess. How are you here?”

“Well, now. Neither of us are really here.” Demanitus gazed out over his realm of gloom. “That isn’t how The Black Kingdom works.”

“This is The Black Kingdom?” Varian could understand the name. “Your realms are both awe-inspiring and, well, eerie.” The black substance on the ground bubbled, as if angered by his presence. “What is this stuff?” he asked.

“Concentrated despair,” Demanitus answered simply. “As for my realms… Think of reality as a bridge, with a gate on either side. Each side has a key, but only in unison do both gates open.”

Varian frowned in contemplation. “That’s how you trapped Zhan Tiri. It took a lot of effort for her to make the keys align.”

“Even then, some things bleed through,” Demanitus explained. “Spirits. Visions. Darkness.”

Spirits. He and Demanitus shared a conversation solely through a mutual connection to The Black Kingdom – Varian’s body being within the ceremonial circle, and Demanitus as the realm’s creator.

Visions. Well, something was trying to reach Varian. The images associated with the compass were, at times, either comforting or terrifying. And his dream about Corona seemed so much more than a dream.

Darkness. Varian was sick of thinking about Darkness. “Darkness isn’t even anything,” he grumbled. “It’s just the absence of light.”

Demanitus posed the question, “When you think of light, what do you imagine?”

Varian went quiet, his mind chasing light as a metaphor. The dawning of a new day. Illuminated understanding. Fire chasing away shadows and fear. Hope. Safety. Hearth and home.

“And without it?” Demanitus challenged.

Uncertainty. Closed doors. Chills in the night. Getting lost. Hatred. Isolation. All aspects of that Darkness Andrew so aptly named for him.

Varian lost focus. Was his aggressive streak… passed down from his father? Did Quirin’s involvement with the Dark Brotherhood curse Varian to wickedness? He was also the son of The Woods Witch of Ingvarr, the Bringer of Darkness. Infected by genetics, no wonder he was dangerous.

The black tried to snag Varian again. He gasped and leapt, narrowly avoiding a second pool. Underground geysers shot more snowy plumes into the air. “The realm is reacting to your presence,” Demanitus told him. “It’s trying to claim you.”

“What? Me? Why? I’m not dead.”

Demanitus waved a gloved hand. “Oh, death has nothing to do with anything. My planes are all built on magic, and magic is what they’re drawn to. That was how I caged Zhan Tiri. Magic in, but not out.”

“I may have, um, used magic,” Varian confessed. Cold fear cut through him. “Am I stuck here? Is that what this place does – trap people?”

“Trap them? Goodness, no. Anyone can leave whenever they choose to. But it must be their choice. Fade or Flourish. Those are the rules. But be warned – The Black Kingdom taints what it touches.”

“If anyone can leave, this realm serves no purpose,” Varian reasoned.

Demanitus frowned, a pinch of sorrow on his face. “Over time, an untethered soul is hardened, like a weapon. The Dark Kingdom needed soldiers, not mournful spirits. I installed the means for those here to forget. They can’t miss what they don’t remember. A kindness, really.”

“You erase their memories?” It was ingenious in its own way. Terrible, but efficient. An army that only knew to react, like the sludge, incapable of further sentience. “Magic seems, as I’m learning, pretty ruthless.”

“It was,” Demanitus agreed, “a force to be reckoned with.” Then, he sighed. “The era of the spell is ending. It lives in whispered stories and practice. A piece of it dies with each non-believer. Science is tangible and evolving. There will come a time when alchemy loses its purpose.”

“A time…” Varian murmured.

What’s your dream now, V? his memory of Rapunzel asked.

Time.

Varian yanked at his hair. “What am I doing?” There was no way to tell how long he had before Hugo’s body became uninhabitable. He could grill Demanitus for all types of answers until the toxin wore off, or he could go after Hugo. “I have so much to ask you, but I can’t. I don’t have time.”

Turning his back on Demanitus was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, forgoing answers from the past to rush towards the future. “Wise decision,” Demanitus called.

Heading deeper into The Black Kingdom, Varian swallowed, skating around pools of inky sludge. If magic was going to try and condemn him, he might as well make it work in his favor. He’d summoned the shade of Demanitus by thinking of him, so he funneled all his energy into thinking of Hugo. What he knew was limited. Hugo was lonely, smart, fearless, and shrewd. He was, unmistakably, dedicated to Varian. They respected each other, thought alike, and both held tragedy in their pasts. Varian trusted him infinitely. And he knew, without question, that if their roles were reversed, Hugo would never stop looking for him.

He felt a pull, an inkling, and turned his head in that direction. Something ambled in the distance, something tall and solid, half-veiled in the mists. Varian raced forward, stumbling across slicks of black and rough road. Sludge splashed up his high boots and splattered his pants. “Hugo!” he screamed, skidding through the terrain. He pulled up in front of Hugo, a smile building that shortly wilted.

Hugo’s eyes were dull and vacant, his uniform a dark grey instead of green. He muttered under his breath. Varian went to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. His bare hands passed through like they were both made of smoke. Neither were corporeal. “Fade and fall,” Hugo mumbled. “Fade and fall and reach the end.”

Using Hugo’s method from the Water Trial, Varian moved in close, blocking everything else from sight. In the reflection from Hugo’s glasses, Varian’s blue eyes and hair streaks looked silver. He drowned out Hugo’s chanting with his own voice. “Hugo! Snap out of it! Listen to me, only to me! Hugo. Hugo!”

Hugo’s lids drifted closed. When he opened them, his eyes were clear and centered, irises a murky shade of lead. “Blue? Wha…” He shook his head to clear it. “What happened?”

Varian’s fingers curled and released, urgently wanting to hug him. He wasn’t sure how much to say. “You got lost. I came to bring you home.”

After a scan of their hellish, colorless surroundings, Hugo’s posture stiffened. “Are we dead?” His eyes snapped back towards Varian. “Blue?” His voice rose. “Are we dead?”

“…I’m not.”

Hugo gulped and nodded as he processed that.  

“But I’m not leaving without you,” Varian vowed. Standing in place for too long, black tendrils snaked around Varian’s ankles, pinning him. He choked down a yelp. Someone needed to be positive right now. Varian painted the moment bright with a wide smile as terror stabbed him in the gut. “Hey, good news – this is all up to you. We can both go at any time. You just have to want to.”

A long moment passed. Hugo seemed preoccupied, creases in his brows and lines around his mouth. His eyes ticked in thought. The sludge left him alone. Of course it would. No magic.

Varian held onto that smile for dear life. “Hugo, I don’t know how much time we have.”

“Are you able to leave on your own?”

“What? I… yeah, I guess.” Soon, the toxin would wear off, and he’d wake up. “So what? C’mon. Let’s go.”

A very quiet, “No,” left Hugo’s mouth.

The phony smile left Varian’s face. “No? What do you mean no?”

Hugo’s chest caved, as if releasing a long breath. “Everybody who ever cared about me is dead.”

“That’s not true!” Ploy at easing Hugo out of here destroyed, Varian thrashed, pulling against the tendrils without success.

“Blue –”

“There are people –”

“Blue, for once, hear what I’m telling you!” Varian stopped struggling, temporarily dumbfounded by the forceful ire in Hugo’s voice. “You’re here! You should be safe and fine, but you’re here!” Hugo’s jaw quivered. “What I’ve done… I’m not a good man. What I did to my friends… your family… you...” His shoulders slumped. “I keep putting people I care about in danger. So, the best thing for everybody is if I’m not around.”

Varian stared, aghast at what he was hearing. “You are the most resourceful, resilient person I know,” he argued. “You might even be the bravest.”

“I’m not brave.”

“Yes, you are!” Hugo was always the first to act, putting himself between Varian and harm over and over.

“It’s because I don’t care!” A wild sort of desperation wormed into Hugo’s eyes. “If something happens to me, so what? Nuru was right. No one would miss me.” He gasped, spiraling. “The only thing my life gives me is grief. I never had a choice in anything. And if this is the one time I get to pick my fate, I choose to stop. I’m allowed to make that call. I’m not gonna hurt anybody anymore.”

Inky tendrils held Varian like iron manacles. The Black Kingdom taints what it touches. The realm was amplifying Hugo’s despondence, keeping him confined. It even made Varian dawdle with Demanitus as precious time passed. He went to grab Hugo again, and again his hands passed through. Varian hadn’t put a barometer on the importance of physical touch until denied it.

The tendrils dragged Varian, pulling him in a quick jerk through a puddle of sludge that took him several feet away. He balled fists up by his head, trying to keep calm. “Listen to me. I know grief. Believe that. But there’s a difference between what you’ve done and who you are. Hugo, you came back. You came back for us! Nobody made you do that.”

“I came back for you because I’m selfish.” A black tear spilled down Hugo’s face, shining like wet tar. “I’ve gotten people hurt before. Can’t say I won’t hurt you in the end.”

Varian squeezed his eyes shut, seeing the nightmare image of his mother’s black tears that destroyed the world. Concentrated despair. The aggressive substance… it came from the tears of the dead. “No one can say that. You just… you just go on. And keep trying. And sometimes you fail the way everybody fails.”

“And when I do –”

The tendrils pulled Varian again. His eyes popped open as he almost fell, horrified of what would happen if his hands got stuck as well. With gumption and steely belief, he yelled, “When you do, I will forgive you! That doesn’t mean you give up! Hugo, please. Please! If you do this, if you make this choice, everything you’ve gone through is for nothing. You fix things! The only way to fix anything is to move forward!” The tendrils tightened, creeping up his legs. “You’re wrong! I’d miss you! Even after everything, my family, Nuru, Yong, they’d all miss you, too! You matter more than you think.”

Hugo hung his head, chest heaving with breath he didn’t need. A plume of steam shot up between them.

“This isn’t fair,” Varian whispered. “I just met you.”

When the steam cleared, Hugo looked up. Black tears streaked down like cracks in his pale skin. “Vari–”

Air rushed into Varian’s lungs as he snapped awake in the middle of the Dark Brotherhood symbol. He found his head was in Nuru’s lap. For a moment, it puzzled him that his clothes were clean. “Varian!” Yong cried in relief. “You’re okay!”

Varian sprang up, shoving past the others. “No! No, it’s too soon!” He rushed to Hugo, whose body no longer shimmered. He was just as still and lifeless as before, the effects of the elixir undetectable. “C’mon,” Varian urged, running his hand through blonde hair. “Perseverance of the spirit. You can do this. Make the right decision.”

No change.

“Hugo, come on. You’re not done.”

Still nothing.

“Please!” he begged.

A pop of glacial blue, crackling into a wall of ice. Alchemical arrowheads. Red and green lights reflecting underwater. Flynnoleum igniting under the ship. Releasing the dragonfly.

Blue… none of that was pretend.

This was Varian’s fault. He’d wasted too much time with Demanitus. His wall of Darkness came down with a crash, no longer insulating him, and released a flood of torment. As his world crumbled into pieces, Varian fell to his knees, tears flowing, fingers lacing through his hair. Nuru and Yong put stabilizing hands on his back as he cried out, pouring agony into one harsh note. He’d failed. Not just a Trial, but Hugo. He could have left Varian a dozen times. He never had to sit on Varian’s bed, never had to wink at him or hold his hand or kiss him under multicolored chemlights. He didn’t owe Varian anything.

In a flash, a burning, rosy flush chased the pallor from Hugo. He gasped and bolted upright, scaring the others into stumbling backwards. Going into a flurry, Hugo clawed at the collar and breast of his blood-stained jacket, tearing it open as if it were suffocating him. He yanked his undershirt down. There was no injury over his heart. Breathless, he regarded the others with wide eyes. “Did all that really happen?” he croaked in a dry voice.

An epic surge of relief made Varian dizzy. He couldn’t move, a little shaky as he reconnected to his emotional spectrum. “Hugo!” Yong cried, tackle-hugging him. Ruddiger sprang into his lap. Nuru piled on top of them. Shedding silent tears, Varian collected everyone in his arms. He didn’t know which of them technically won the Trial and didn’t care.

Chapter Text

The group retrieved the dagger, staff, and various equipment taken from the ship. Once they returned to Prometheus, Hugo ditched his jacket for a simple, cream peasant shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He kept his googles and the red chemlight. After the exhaustive day, they called it an early night. Following a quiet dinner, Nuru went to the helm to manage night-flying. She had her telescope and the stars to steer them out of the kingdom. The boys went to bed.

As Yong and Ruddiger snored on the bunk above, Varian’s mind churned, keeping him awake. Whether it had been his efforts or Hugo’s, the blonde was back with them. Had Donella managed the same with his mother? Had his mother brought Donella back? Now, he doubted his earlier idea about his mother being formally dead. Too much was up in the air. The pervasive imagery of liquid black in both his dream and The Black Kingdom was no coincidence. Was the terrifying side of Ulla’s visions leftover from her trauma in dealing with the Death Trial? Varian’s gaze wandered to the other side of the dark cabin. Was Hugo suffering the same damage? “Fade and fall,” he murmured. Where had he heard that before? And the Saporians… had Donella promised something to make them chase Prometheus? Maybe the Prima Materia object?

A clicking sound interrupted Varian’s thoughts, and he looked at the opposite bunk again. The slightest amount of moonlight seeped around the cabin door, causing Hugo’s glasses to glint where they hung on their peg. The sound came from the pocket wrench Hugo kept on him, the tool collapsing and expanding each time it was pressed. He was also awake.

Varian slipped out of his bunk and into Hugo’s. It was a tight fit. On his side, Varian folded an arm under his head while Hugo stared at the bottom on Nuru’s bunk. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“When I got pulled out first,” Varian whispered, “I didn’t think… What made you choose to leave?” Even though Varian left him, Hugo had kept his head and broke through despair and odds.

Hugo turned to face Varian. “You. Even if I mess it up, any time I have with you is more than I deserve. And I don’t wanna miss any of it.”

A tender ball expanded in Varian’s chest. Too dark to see more than outlines, his hand found Hugo’s neck, fingers moving up to softly scratch at the bristle behind his head. “When I found you, you kept saying something, but I couldn’t make it out. Do you remember?”

There was the wet noise of parting lips, but Hugo took a while to respond. “I… remember the chant, but not the specific words. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to once I left. My memory is usually rock solid. I remember the feeling, though. Those words playing through my head… they made me want to give up. I felt like I was nothing, like air, like I could spin off into the atmosphere and evaporate. And… no one would notice.” He rolled, pulling away as he curled towards the wall.

Varian wrapped his free arm tight around Hugo. Without the bulky jacket, he seemed smaller, frail even. “I’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere. And neither am I.” He nestled closer, their knees touching. “It’s gonna be okay. Maybe not now, but someday.”

Hugo’s ribs moved as he sniffled. It was an alarming sound since, outside of The Black Kingdom, Varian had never seen him cry. “Promise me?”

Varian tightened his hold. He took promises intensely serious. “I promise you,” he fiercely vowed. “I promise I’m always gonna be there. I promise that you and me, we’re gonna do things that are exciting and unexpected and important. And most of all, we’re gonna be happy.”

Hugo clutched his hand like a tether. His breathing evened. “I trust you.”

Drifting into sleep, Varian still felt that sturdy grip on his hand.

The grip tugged. “Come on! They’re waiting!”

Varian opened his eyes to familiar surroundings. He sat up in his wooden bed in Old Corona. An orange sunset streamed in through windows that needed cleaning, the room cool as stonework walls absorbed daylight, insulating the interior. His mother pulled him, fully clothed, out of bed. “You’re taking an eternity, sleepyhead.”

He stumbled and stared at their joined hands. This was the first time he recalled his mother touching him. “You… you’re here,” he said, relieved that she looked normal, blue dress and apron, and no signs of fluid black. “And you seem… fine.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, grinning. She let go of him and messed his hair up using both hands. “Back at’cha, little guy.”

He clapped palms over his head, smoothing his hair and righting his goggles, smiling growing. This was a new side of Ulla, one he’d always hoped to see and feared he never would. He pulled his hands away, static prickling his skin. His mother skipped to the door, red hair bouncing. “Boy, are you in for a shock,” she told him, wagging her fingers. Electricity crackled at the tips. She slipped outside.

Bracing himself for another terrible experience, Varian ran after her. He didn’t make it far. “Surprise!” a cluster of people shouted. As he came down his front steps, he saw everyone he knew that was associated with science. Yong and Nuru stood on ladders, spreading a banner that read, Welcome Home, between them. Aunt Bea presented a wide sheet cake. Uncle Ulric and his cousins all held colorful balloons. Even Donella sat pouting on a log.

His mother ran up to the group. “It’s an alchemy party just for you!” she shouted, tossing sparks into the air like confetti. His cousins popped their balloons, each spitting out different colored smoke.

“Ulla, really,” Donella muttered. She held a length of stiff wire with a marshmallow poked into the end, roasting it over a firepit crammed with light bulbs. “Did you have to invite everyone?”

“Well, only the important people, silly,” Ulla said, hopping up next to her and kicking her feet like a child. Her boots had rubber soles.

“You brought everybody here for me?” Varian asked, coming closer.

A line formed on Ulla’s forehead when she looked at him. “Of course. When did I ever have the chance to throw you a celebration?” She stood and straightened his vest. “And you deserve something all your own.”

His hand closed over hers. “Thanks, mom. You’re the best. I mean, out of all the moms I’ve had, which is really just you. So, not like it’s a contest but, hey, you won!”

Ulla hugged Varian around the neck and gushed, “Aw. You’re so electro-cute!” She turned her head and winked at Donella. “Nailed it.”

Aware that he was the center of attention, Varian wiggled out of her embrace. “Moooom.” He glanced over the assembly. Aunt Bea began cutting cakes slices and handing them to Carroll, Shelley, and Wells, who ended up with four plates each. Ulric and Donella engaged in a conversation that seemed mildly civil. Yong stuffed wiring into the mouth of his Ring of Fire mortar. Nuru plucked stars that emerged from the growing dusk, arranging them over the lens of her flared telescope like a making a bouquet. Jules and Verne chased each other, Jules wearing Varian’s old goggles, Verne wearing Hugo’s.

A cold sensation washed through Varian. Twelve plates. Twelve in attendance. “Mom, where’s Hugo?”

“Oh, honey,” Ulla said, handing out cake plates. “He can’t come.”

“What? Why not?”

Donella stabbed her cake slice with a fork. “You know well why.”

Through mounting dread, Varian said, “He’s alive, right? I followed the instructions. I went to get him. He’s back.”

His mother and Donella shared a glance. Ulla seemed concerned while Donella wore her standard guise of annoyance. “Well, yes…” his mother confessed, handing him a plate.

“Then, what’s the problem?”

Uncle Ulric sighed. His expression mirrored Ulla’s. “Did you really think things through, Varian?”

All his cousins crooned, “Ohhhhhhhh,” as if they caught Varian doing something naughty.

“Hugo’s gonna find out,” Yong said, collecting frosting on his finger. He used the confection to draw a symbol with sharp angles on a tree. “And he won’t like it.”

“Varian,” Nuru chastised, taking the plate out of his hands. “Do you really not know?”

“What do you mean?” Varian recalled the steps taken to create the elixir that granted Hugo the chance to return. “What did I overlook?”

Donella grumbled, “Again, with the questions.” She raised her head, speaking to someone behind Varian. “Didn’t you teach him better?”

“My doctrines were merely contained within literature,” Demanitus said, joining the group as a late addition. “Now, tell me,” he addressed Varian, looking him dead in the eye. He held up a wide platter stacked with food. “Where do I put the ham sandwiches?”

Ulla took Varian’s arm, steering him away. He glanced over his shoulder. Yong’s symbol was a bolt of electricity. She led him a short distance and clutched at his hand. Her eyes held seriousness and a little fear. “You’ll do it, right Varian? When it’s time?” she pleaded. “I need somebody on my side. Varian?”

Varian woke to Yong calling his name. He was snug, still wrapped around Hugo. The bunk creaked. “Hush,” said Nuru, as she climbed to her spot above. “You leave them be. Go have breakfast.” The cabin door opened and closed.

The ship idled with no one at the helm. Varian’s head cleared as he woke fully. Was magic trying to tell him something, or just scrambling his brain? Had he really made an error in the Death Trial? He gave sleeping Hugo a squeeze and went to the galley in his bedclothes. Ruddiger took his place, hopping onto Hugo’s bed. He shut the door and sat on an upturned barrel as Yong skewered sausages. “Why were you in Hugo’s bunk?” Yong asked.

Varian ran a hand through his hair, waiting for embarrassment that didn’t manifest. Tired of being flustered, he was glad to be at peace, secure in how he felt about Hugo. “He was having a rough time, pal. We both were. And I –”

I love him stuck in Varian’s throat. The notion took him by surprise. He hadn’t expected to experience the sentiment. He’d only thought of working, the next project, the next request, the next occurrence to befall Corona. To be vulnerable, to set his emotions free felt risky, a step too close to losing control. And Hugo was a career criminal, an antihero. At their worst, both were crafty and brutal. Together, they could bring ruin.

Yet, in their quiet moments, Varian felt balanced and understood. He only knew broad strokes of Hugo’s life, not fine details. Hugo fed him crumbs, piece by piece, and each confession seemed to come at an internal price. Despite the cost, he still looked at Varian with the same adoration Eugene reserved for Rapunzel. A concept took root, a mature understanding of how complex genuine happiness was, of the concessions that came with another person’s baggage and needs, likes and dislikes, and aspects of a personality that one neglected in the service of togetherness.

“You’re both pretty clever,” Yong said, handing a sausage skewer to Varian. “You’ll figure things out. By the way, I’ve got an idea.”

Varian took the offering and smiled. “Another one? Boy, you don’t stop.”

Yong cracked a confident grin. “Nope! Wanna help in the lab?”

Taking a break from his thoughts and going back to basics sounded fantastic. Ruffling the boy’s hair, Varian said, “Yeah, pal. I do.”

He and Yong spent the morning in the lower deck’s laboratory, working on a firework-smoke bomb hybrid that could both blind and disorient without actually blowing anything up. The trick would be getting the powder to ignite within an alchemy orb. Both put their heads together.

Past midday, Varian went up for air, though Yong opted to stay below, chasing theories. Varian tipped his face to a sunny sky, rolling his head in both directions, cracking his neck. There was always a breeze on deck, and it made his hair flutter. Dropping his head, he spotted the compass at the helm. No whispers drifted from it, its needle pointing at the cabin.

Hugo stepped out from the galley, Ruddiger draped over his shoulder. The raccoon’s interest in Hugo seemed odd, since the blonde didn’t feed him. Food was usually how Ruddiger bonded with anyone other than Varian. Hugo fussed with his glasses, putting them on and taking them off. He wasn’t wearing his gloves.

“What are you doing?” Varian asked, coming to his side.

“Everything is blurry.”

“Then put your glasses on.”

“No, It’s blurry with them. It’s like… nevermind.” He put the spectacles back on. “What am I missing out on?”

“Oh, me and Yong were working on a project down below. The norm.”

At the mention of Yong, Ruddiger hopped down from Hugo’s shoulder and scampered to the lower deck hatch. Yong almost always had some type of sweet on him.

“Hey, Blue?” Hugo said, taking his hand. “About last night… thanks.”

It was very different for them to hold hands without the barrier of gloves. Just warm skin on skin and a sense of solidarity between them. Varian beamed. “I meant it. All of it.” Hugo gave a small, hopeful smile. Quick, before anything else tragic, Varian kissed him long and hard. They hadn’t kissed since Ingvarr, which seemed a lifetime ago. Hugo wrapped arms around him. Nestled against one another was starting to feel like home.

When they separated, Varian asked, “Can you send a dragonfly?”

Hugo balked at the sudden tonal shift. “Huh? To where?”

“Wherever Donella might be. I have an important question.”

Hugo’s expression clouded. “After what she did, I’m not hip to ask her anything.”

“I’ll write it. I need to know if my mom wore rubber-soled boots, or if I’m just imagining that.”

“Rubber? For grounding? Like with electricity?” Hugo frowned at him. “Blue… are you still messing with that compass?”

Varian slid a hand up to brush at the stubble on the back of Hugo’s head. Hugo melted against him. “Will you just send it?”

Hugo hummed into his neck. “That’s a dirty trick,” he chastised. He took Varian’s hand and wrapped his arm around him. Pulling, he stepped back and sent Varian twirling out like they were in a dance, making him laugh. “Sure,” he agreed, letting Varian go. He took up the helm.

“I, uh… don’t think the compass is going to be any help,” Varian mentioned, woozy from his spin.

After punching a few buttons, Hugo tossed him a smirk. “Next stop is Pittsford, right? I don’t need directions.” The ship gave a soft lurch as it moved forward. Good Mood Hugo was a vast improvement over the guy that spent the first few Trials insulting Varian at every chance.

Going to the galley, Varian found Nuru awake, dishing up leftover soup. “You’re not getting dressed today?” she asked, handing him a bowl.

“I’m taking a break.” He sat, joining her, and puffed a weary exhale. “Our ratio of stress to enjoyment is way off.”

Nuru took the spoon out of her mouth and gestured with it. “Heard. How’s Hugo doing since… you know?”

Cradling the wooden bowl, Varian confessed, “He’s… doing. It’s kinda hard to read him sometimes. He keeps a lot to himself. I don’t think he wants to bug anybody with his problems, even when they’re serious.” His spoon trailed channels through his soup. “He’s having an issue with his glasses.”

“You think there’s something wrong with him? An aftereffect?”

Varian shook his head. “Physically, he’s good. I used the elixir on him. He’ll be good forev–”

The warnings in his dream. Ruddiger’s infatuation. The glasses.

Varian clapped a hand over his mouth and shot to his feet. The bowl clattered to the floor. He rushed to the cabin.

“What happened?” Nuru asked, alarm in her voice.

The cabin door squealed on its hinges as Varian threw it open. He dumped his pack out on his bunk, grabbing Demanitus’ Tome. He flipped through the pages and reread about the elixir with fervor. Not once had Varian taken the legend seriously. The Elixir of Life had been a fairy tale, dismissed as a foolish concoction that would never see creation. As he scanned Demanitus’ musings, there it was, the one word Varian had forgotten.

Immortality.

The elixir hadn’t just preserved Hugo’s body. In one fell swoop, the potion ensured he would never get hurt, never get old, and never die. The killing wound had healed, and the potion continued to cure him, making his glasses useless. On some level, animals knew when someone was sick or hurting, and Ruddiger had decided that Hugo, facing the hardship of eternity, needed him.  

Varian swore that he’d always be with Hugo. His words were a lie. Always was now a temporary patch. “But I promised him…” he whispered, guilt piling up like a snowdrift.

“What are you looking at?” Nuru asked, coming to his side. Varian transferred the book to her hands. She read, frowning.

“The elixir,” Varian said, wrapping arms around himself. “When we used it… Nuru, it’s The Elixir of Life. The real one.” Hugo held a morose nature about the things he’d lost. An existence of losing everyone and everything, repeatedly? Varian’s heart sank. If he’d told Hugo in The Black Kingdom, Varian was certain he would have opted to remain there. The only reason he’d left at all had been for Varian and, even then, he’d barely made it.

Nuru’s eyes found his. “But the name… Light.”

“I know. I don’t get why Demanitus changed it.” To protect it? For it to only be accessible to those following his Trials? Of all the questions Varian could have asked in The Black Kingdom, that one slipped by.

Nuru clapped the book shut. “We have to tell Hugo.”

Hugo’s easy smile on deck. Varian didn’t want to throw cold water on him just yet. “I think we should wait. Just, ya know, a little bit. Let things settle first.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know?”

That everybody would one day leave him behind? “No,” Varian answered honestly. “I wouldn’t. Not until it mattered.”

Nuru scowled at him. “Varian.” His name was a warning.

“Look, I will! But he’s had enough to worry about for a while. This’ll be just you and me. For now, okay?”

Nuru sighed and handed the book back. “For now,” she allowed.

Varian spent the rest of the afternoon seated on his bunk, reviewing all three books through fresh eyes. “Come on, mom,” he muttered, going through Ulla’s almanac again. Demanitus Device, she’d noted. What device? Any? Hidden, or to be created?

The word Device meant anything with a specific purpose, not necessarily mechanical. He began to speculate that the quest wasn’t about building an object at all. Possibly, it was about shaping a person. But which one – the one that got brought back due to the elixir, or the one in tune with magic that did the bringing?

That evening, they all discussed notes on the Iron Trial over dinner. Ulla referred to Pittsford’s capital as, The Clockwork City. Look to the past, not the future. Bending light to bring memory. Nightmares? Daydreams? It’s in the upper, not the lower. “The upper?” Varian pondered. “What does that mean?”

Hugo snorted. “You’ll see.”

“Is it really a city?” Yong asked. “I’ve never seen one.”

Neither had Varian. At least, not an urban one. He’d seen towns and villages, but nothing larger than Corona’s seaside capital. He looked at Nuru, who shrugged. Everything outside of Koto was new for her.

“It is, indeed,” Hugo assured. “Only…” He tapped his fork against his plate. “When we get there, I’m gonna need you follow what I say. It’s my hometown, and it’s, well, kind of a sprawling place. Can I get a consensus?” Varian’s hand snapped into the air, followed by Nuru’s and Yong’s. Ruddiger chittered from the floor at Hugo’s heels. Hugo gave a curt nod. “Good.” A slick smile spread. “Hey, I’m in charge again! And everybody wins when that happens!”

Hugo wasn’t wrong. During the instances when he’d assumed leadership, the entire group benefitted. Varian grinned at him until he caught a pointed glance from Nuru. He went back to his meal.

After nightfall, Nuru replaced Hugo at the wheel for the evening shift.

So went the pattern for a few days, flying, working, and too much thinking. In addition, once Yong was asleep and gently wheezing, Varian and Hugo snuck out of bed. Varian suspected Nuru knew what they were doing, as it was hard to cross the deck unnoticed.

Wedged in a sheltered place in the lower deck amidst cranking machinery and dimmed chemlights, he and Hugo could be alone. The Black Kingdom ordeal made them conscious of peril, and it capped their kisses with an edge of desperation, turning them into the breathless sort with tongues and teeth that left hair mussed and clothing rumpled. Wrapped up in each other, the hours blurred by. Varian was getting to know Hugo’s musculature pretty well. He felt a press to pack their time in. All Varian had to give was the rest of his own life. Hugo was going to outlive him, possibly everyone. He’d see a world that Varian couldn’t even imagine.

One night, reminiscent of his dream, Varian had a brief fantasy of taking Hugo back to Corona, of them working side-by-side, meeting his dad and the royal family, and having adventures together before Hugo went on with the rest of his existence. Varian broke their kissing to huskily say, “Come home with me. To Corona.”

Hugo’s eyes cracked open a smidge. The subdued illumination from the chemlights gave his face an impish gleam. “What, no diamond?” he teased. “You know I like shiny things.”

Varian’s hands swept down Hugo’s arms. “Really… where were you planning to go?”

“I kinda like it right here.” Hugo moved to resume their kiss.

“I’m serious,” Varian said, turning his face way.

Hugo settled back against a support beam. “You usually are.”

Varian knelt before him. “I want you in my life,” he declared. “For as long as we can stand it. For as long as you’d have me.”

Hugo’s gaze drifted away.

Fearing too much too soon, Varian spluttered, “I didn’t mean – you don’t have to do anything you don’t –”

Hugo held a hand up, stopping Varian’s words. “I’ve never had a family. Had people that looked after me, made sure I was raised skilled and competent. Friends that enjoyed each other. But I don’t think anyone’s actually cared about me. Not… not like this.”

“I care.”

Hugo took Varian’s hand, lacing their fingers, displaying his paleness against the honeyed tone of Varian’s skin. “I know. And there’s… something a little scary about that. Like, you’re going to know me, what I’ve done, who I really am, and… you’re going to change your mind. I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not in it.”

Varian gulped. Hugo would have to. Since he was hardly innocent, he confessed, “Hey, it’s not like I haven’t royally – and I mean royally, in all senses – messed up.”

“Sure, Blue,” Hugo said, incredulous. “You’re a terror.”

“No, I…” He moved to sit next to Hugo. The metal of the beam was chilly through his shirt. “I’m gonna tell you something and… I have a feeling that you’ll understand.”

He spent a long night telling Hugo all about the incident with the amber and his vast overcorrection to the problem, including the disturbing fact that he could summon an empty feeling in order to get by. It wasn’t like telling Andrew. There was no ribbing, no jokes at Varian’s expense. He felt safe, and Hugo held his hand through all of it, listening patiently. “So, there you go,” Varian concluded when he finished the part about the Saporians being taken into Corona’s custody. “Um, what do you think?” He felt as if he’d handed Hugo his life to grade like a test.

“Well,” Hugo started slowly. “I know firsthand the lengths you’d go to in order to save someone. And call me greedy, but I’m glad that’s in your nature. Some people, they just sit in their anger, and it swallows them. You do something with it. I mean, if you can’t change who you are, at least you’re able to put it to use.”

Varian absently ran a thumb along Hugo’s wrist. Lessons learned from his experience definitely helped him get through the Death Trial. “Huh. Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“When am I not?” Hugo said, bumping him with an elbow. “And, besides, who hasn’t had an entire kingdom upset with them?”

“Nuru, for one. Though I can’t be sure about Yong…”

The ship creaked, and machinery whirred around them. It was early morning, a particular bite of cold eating though the hull. “Ready to go back up?” Hugo asked.

“Just a little longer?” Varian bartered, crossing his leg over Hugo’s and resting a cheek on his shoulder.

Hugo rested his chin atop Varian’s head and put an arm around him. “You got it, Blue.”

Chapter Text

They were lucky Prometheus consisting of metal, or Varian’s pacing would have worn a cleft through the center of the cabin. “A compass responds to an electromagnetic field,” he said, recapping an epiphany he’d had the night prior when coming back from a late hour excursion with Hugo. “Electromagnetic waves affect the brain. That’s why I’ve been –”

“Scattering marbles everywhere?” Nuru suggested from her seat on Hugo’s bunk. She wasn’t pleased to see Varian holding the compass. Yong sat beside her, biting his lip. Hugo was at the helm, bringing them across Pittsford’s border.

“Yes!” Varian counted off on his fingers. “Sleep disturbances, hallucinations, low grade seizures –”

“Gosh, Varian,” Yong, the clinic kid, muttered. “Low grade –”

“My visions! The dreams! It all makes sense.”

Nuru shook her head. “Not really.”

“What makes electric-magnetic waves?” Yong asked.

“No, it’s electro –” Varian began correcting, then broke off. The jagged electricity fork symbol from his dream. “Yong, you’re incredible! It’s caused by the acceleration of electric charges. My mom and Donella! I’ll bet their projects focused on something having to do with electricity and magic. Demanitus said things get through fissures in reality. What if their use of electromagnetic energy altered the compass, making it a kind of temporal window? My mom really could be trying to contact me! It’s real, not just in my head!”

“I don’t recall reading that Demanitus ever said that,” Nuru said.

“He told me when I was in The Black Kingdom.”

She and Yong gave each other a skeptical look. “He just showed up, huh?” Nuru said. “Demanitus Ex Machina?”

“What about the needle?” Yong asked. “It used to point us in a direction.”

Varian turned the compass in his hands. “Yeah, I… I don’t know what changed.” He didn’t want to part with the knowledge that it now pointed at Hugo. Did his longing influence the needle? Something to do with the elixir? This was the reason he’d excluded Hugo from the meeting. Over the last week, Hugo had been the happiest Varian had seen him. And since Hugo seemed like someone resigned to sadness, Varian felt protective over his frame of mind.

“I think it’s a long shot, Varian,” Nuru said. “With the addition of magic, I get how that could be a catch-all for what’s been happening, but electricity magic? That’s kind of a weird notion.”

“Only if you think of magic as being some sort of pretentious display. I barely touched anything in order to use it in the Death Trial. You use Saporian crystals – magically imbued Saporian crystals – as an energy source in Koto. It’s not magic in terms of spells and potions, it’s just power. Wiring is hard to manufacture, and generators are tough to build. But using magic to run machinery? That would be perfect. And ingenuous.”

“If that’s even what your mom and Donella were doing,” Yong cautioned.

“Yeah. You’re right.” Varian would know more when, and if, Donella sent a return dragonfly with her response. He already knew that Ulla dappled in magic. The detail of his mother wearing rudder-soled shoes was oddly specific. Could his imagination have inserted it into his dream? Sure. But it might be true, meaning her works really were about combining magic with electricity.

A wired bell dinged on the cabin’s ceiling, a signal from Hugo at the wheel. Nuru and Yong got to their feet and followed Varian to the deck. The sun had begun to set, painting the sky indigo at the top before fading to bright peach below. Ruddiger hopped up and down at the helm as Hugo, his loose shirt billowing in the breeze, called, “Well, I guaranteed a city, didn’t I?” The others rushed to the railing.

Pittsford’s Clockwork City occupied both sides of a wide, flowing river. Multiple levels of walkways and bridges stretched over the waterway. Massive hydraulic pumps piped water out of the river and up the banks, leading to boileries and routing stations that snaked into the city, funneling steam to clocktowers, steel mills, and factories. Truly a metropolis, the city sported a sleek, linear appearance with stylized, geometric architecture. Shining metal buildings shot straight up, climbing to impressive heights, revealing steel latticework windows, not glass. There were no arcs or curves, only rigid lines, making the city appear sterile and harsh. Steel and brass extensions branched up and out from their original structures like tree limbs. A wealth of electric lights sat behind frosted glass globes, diffusing the filaments, dusting the city like stars. Fat plumes of steam and soot rose from ground level, dissipating at midpoint. Sky docks towered above everything, metallic ships the size of seafaring vessels tied off overhead.

Shaken by the grandeur and breathtaking triumph on display, Varian gushed, “This… this is incredible! The engineering! The ingenuity! Oh, it’s beyond imagination!”

Hugo hugged him from behind, saying over his shoulder in a bored voice, “Eh, I’ve seen it.”

Varian could now understand why Hugo disliked plants. Given the amount of water, metal, and wiring at work, no wonder. The entire city was solid human creation, entirely artificial. Organic growth could easily upset careful construction. He glanced at Nuru, who seemed overwhelmed, and Yong, who looked ecstatic. “Varian, do you see?” Yong cried. “The clocks! They rotate!” Leisurely, the tops of the clocktowers turned, putting their faces on view to the entire city.

One detail bothered Varian, but he bit it down for now. Hugo dropped his hold and he and Nuru brought Prometheus into port. The sky dock bustled, full of airships more ostentatious than theirs. “Is it safe to leave the ship here?” ever-cautious Nuru asked.

“No one’s gonna bother anything in the air,” Hugo said, pulling a lever that made the mooring line retract, bringing them to meet the metal gangplank. “Most ships carry raw materials from mines in the countryside. There’s no value until they’re processed. And besides, crime trickles upwards. Isn’t that how it works in Koto, too?”

“We don’t have trouble in Koto. Everyone pulls together to survive.”

Hugo’s nose wrinkled. “Huh. How nice for you.”

Yong went to secure the lab and workshop. Varian stopped at the cabin to throw a few things in Hugo’s crosswise satchel, foregoing his cumbersome backpack. He took the books and added the compass. On his way out, he knelt to greet Ruddiger. “Stay with the ship, buddy. I’ve got a feeling an animal would stick out down there. We’ll be okay. Play lookout, alright?” The raccoon gave a cricking chirp and puffed his chest.

Reconvening, the group stepped onto the high scaffolding of the sky dock. Nuru clung to Varian’s arm, jaw clenched. She was from underground, and the floor of the ship was nothing like the open-air framework of the dock. Hugo slid the door to an elevated lift open. “Going down, Princess,” he said in a sing-song voice, stepping inside. Nuru blinked at him and sprinted for the lift, trading Varian’s arm for Hugo’s, burying her face in his shoulder. Varian didn’t blame her. This was Hugo’s city, and he was the expert. He gave Varian a surprised look as the others joined, and closed the door with one hand, pushing a button on an interior panel.

“The piping,” Varian muttered.

“What about it?” Yong asked. He peered out at the city as the lift descended.

“It’s just… Corona has hot, running water,” Varian said, trying to ignore wounded pride. “I thought I’d done something new. But looking at The Clockwork City’s ductwork, that’s not true.”

“Oh, no, it’s true,” Hugo assured. “All those pipes are for power, not personal use. The steam inside is way too hot. Can’t have random people handling the valves. The pipework is extremely volatile. Steam makes the generators run. Combining pressure, water, and electricity is challenging work. It’s caused a bunch of explosions, which created The Dregs.”

“The Dregs?” Yong repeated.

Hugo glanced at Varian. “Your mom mentioned the upper. The Dregs are the lower part of the city.”

The top floors of buildings met Varian’s sightline. “When you say lower –”

“I definitely mean lower.”

Varian’s hands twisted the strap of Hugo’s bag. The modest scale of his pipework saved Corona the problem of instability. His tanks were small but scattered, so their piping didn’t have far to go. The number of valves he’d installed, along with the fact that everything was above ground and easily accessible for maintenance, spared his kingdom the same calamities The Clockwork City faced. For as beautiful and technologically advanced Pittsford was, he’d done something they couldn’t. A satisfied smile crossed his face.

The lift reached bottom. They stepped out, finding themselves in, not a road, but a street. Carriages without horses rattled by on tracks, carrying travelers. Scores of people filled the city, more than Varian ever fathomed seeing. Citizens wore starkly styled attire in subdued tones with metal or brass adornments, an embellished extension of their city. Overhead phonographs played synchronized music. Automated fans pushed smog up from street level. Some buildings had signs designating them as creameries, distilleries, dispensaries, campuses, and cafeterias. Narrow pipes trailed up the exteriors, the steam carefully channeled to avoid being directly over electrical cables. Night was falling fast, and constables roamed in stiff grey uniforms with steel bracers, pauldrons, and knee guards. Long, straight swords hung in their scabbards. 

For as wondrous as the city was, they couldn’t stand there gawking, making themselves stand out. This was also Donella’s hometown. The only thing they had for defense was Hugo’s knowledge of the city. “We need somewhere safe to assess the next Trial from,” said Varian.

Nuru still clung to Hugo, intimidated by the scope of towering, steel structures. “Agreed,” she said.

“I know a place.” Hugo took Varian’s hand. There was nothing warm in the touch – it was pure possession that made Varian jolt under its intensity. Hugo knew more than them, and Varian and Yong shared a worried look that made the younger grab onto the back of Nuru’s dress.

They deferred to Hugo, who led them through the streets, keeping Varian close at his side like a prized valuable. He walked with purpose, weaving, careful to avoid anyone. The others matched his pace. Yong couldn’t stop looking up, past the layer of grime, past the skyway bridges, to where the tops of roofs scratched the belly of night sky. Streets narrowed, and the fans and automations became fewer and fewer until they disappeared entirely. People became scarce, and the well-lit shops turned into a series of shuttered storefronts.

A haze clung to ground level, making Varian’s eyes itch. Through that vapor, a barricade blocked the avenue ahead of them. Sheets of uneven metal, mismatched like Prometheus’ new hull, stood as tall of two men, the tops sawed to ragged, rusted points. The welding was shoddy, leaving gaps between each section. Hugo rapped a complicated cacophony against a panel. “That’s old,” someone said on the other side.

“Look, I’ve been outta town,” Hugo said, speaking through seams in the uneven barricade. “I’ve got a bunch of kids with me. If they look like Upper patrols, throw them out.”

A single, bare bulb moved up and down, the amber filament visible through the gap. “Heck of a collection,” the voice remarked. “But you’re good.” The bottom of one panel lifted inward, swinging on hinges, tilling the entire section. Hugo ducked under it, pulling the others with him. An average Pittsford street greeted them on the other side, lined with more of the same geometric structures.

“Kids,” Varian huffed once they were past the sentry.

Hugo squeezed his hand and angled them into a building. “Hey, you’re little. Roll with it. And get your light.”

Varian took his chemlight out and shook it. The green glow lit their way as Hugo took them down several flights of stairs. Their boots clanked on the metal steps. “Why was there a big gate out there?” Yong asked, his wonder dampened in the dull stairwell.

“Used to keep people out of the older section of town,” Hugo explained. “But you build a city on top of a bunch of pipes and folks’ll find –”

“Tunnels,” Varian finished.

“There’s an underground?” Nuru asked, finally showing interest.

Hugo smirked. “I’ll say.” He gestured with his chin to a closed door in front of them. Nuru let go of him and threw it open. “Welcome to The Dregs,” Hugo said, stepping through. He kept hold of Varian. “Mind the standing water.”

Varian assumed they’d be back outside, but no sky shined above. There was a metal ceiling, but it wasn’t uniformly laid, like it was erected in a rush. The shift in temperature was abrupt, turning humid and warm, but the smog didn’t permeate down. The guts of empty shops flanked a cramped street. Clusters of people, either very old or very young, congregated before fabric-draped doorways and windows. Their clothing seemed close to the fashions from above but were so patched and threadbare that it was hard to tell.

As impressive as The Clockwork City was, The Dregs were something else entirely. Ingenuity took a definitive downturn, as if engineered by the uneducated. Smaller, rickety pipes leeched steam from above. Hissing plumes escaped improper seals. Dangerous trails of exposed, redirected wiring lit bare, harsh bulbs. True to Hugo’s warning, ominous pools of water collected in worn sections of the roadway. Varian wondered how many people got electrocuted before learning to be mindful.

“This section is closed off,” Varian said, matching Nuru and Yong’s careful footsteps as he put the chemlight away. “What happened?”

For as shady as The Dregs seemed, Hugo visibly relaxed, and strolled with familiar ease. “Remember the bit about the explosions? In a normal city, the whole place would have burned down. But, like on the ship, if things are mostly metal, there’s nothing much to burn. The pressure makes pipes and structures tear outward. What do you do with a torn pipe sealed into the ground other than leave it? Can’t patch that. So you lay something over it. Down here, this is the original Clockwork City, the base layer.”

“Why seal it?” Yong asked. “This whole place is cool! Both parts!”

“This is just residential,” Hugo mentioned, taking them around a corner. “There’s a bunch of different sections. Markets, apothecaries, emporiums –”

“Where do The Dregs get all that?” Varian asked.

“Well, from above.”

Nuru spun and glared at Hugo. “It’s stolen.”

“Of course it's stolen. That’s where almost everyone is. Sweeping the stores or working the crowds.”

Nuru clung firm to her beliefs. “You say that so easily, like you think people are entitled to do whatever they want.”

Hugo stopped and snorted. “You think people would choose to live here? Doll, you might come from a kingdom of equity, but the rest of us live in the real world.” His face turned red. “Power flows above, both kinds. You’re either born into your station or you run the machines. That city up there – who do you think works the factories? Every time something blows up, where do you think that is? It’s not in the towers. It’s not in the science centers. It’s down low. Low enough to pave over and ignore it. The city’s not tall by accident.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Princess… this isn’t the lowest level. The Dregs go deep. Real deep. So if folks figured out a loophole, let them use it.” He took out his red light and kept walking.  

A troubled crease formed between Nuru’s brows as the others hurried to keep up with Hugo. Varian hummed in thought. Each kingdom he’d seen had its wonders and its complications. The sheer expanse of The Clockwork City divided it between those who benefitted from technological advancement, and those who risked maintaining it. Crime trickles up, Hugo’d said, touching on a hierarchy of need. Had Varian been visiting on Corona business, he wouldn’t have known The Dregs existed. All he’d have seen would be the polished city above. The lower section was sealed off to save face.

Hugo came to an abrupt halt before a building with a thick brass door. His light gleamed orange on the surface as he felt down the sides of the doorway, pulling knobbed pins out at different lengths. The entire door was one big tumbler lock. “Hugo, I apologize,” Nuru said, contrition on her face. “I didn’t have all the information.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, pulling the unlocked door open. He swept his arm overhead. Glass clinked. A wealth of bottles hung from the ceiling, the chemlight liquid inside them illuminating at the disruption. One swinging bottle tapped the next and the next, until the location filled with soft, yellow light. “Well, come in already,” he told the others, dropping his light back down his shirt.

Varian used alchemical traps to secure his lab in Old Corona. Hugo undid the door with an engineering trick and was well-acquainted with The Dregs. “You said you knew a place, but you live here,” Varian said as the four of them entered the building. It wasn’t a house, but an old pumping station. Levers and gauges sat in a back wall, exposed wires and broken steam channels a telltale sign that power had been cut long ago. A door on either side led to a branch in the pipe system. One door stood open, revealing a set of double beds and a back wall, turning it into a makeshift bedroom. The opposite door was closed. In the center sat a communal space with a lengthy chaise, a table and padded chairs, and a workbench. Papers littered the bench and a collection of organized tools and potions sat in a carved curio cabinet. Barrels and boxes of old or half-finished projects crowded the room.

Hugo shoved the door back into place and spun a wheel on the inside. A series of clicks emitted as the pins slid into place. “Disappointed?” Doubt was a strange look on him.

Varian gave an impressed grin. “Not at all. It’s practical and inventive. Very you,” he said, chasing the worry from Hugo’s expression.

“Where’s the kitchen?” Yong asked. “I’m hungry.”

“I’m not around that much,” Hugo explained. “Unless questionable yet fun mushrooms are your jam, I’m heading back out. Are you guys good here?”

“You tell us,” Nuru said, taking a seat on the chaise. “Is this safe?”

“Well, it’s a safehouse, so yeah.” Hugo went to the closed door and twisted the handle. He paused, a pinch wafting over his face. “Just… don’t move too much around. I’ll take a shortcut through the pipes. Stay put, okay?”

“We’ll be right here,” Varian assured. Hugo granted him the slight bend of a smile before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

In Hugo’s absence, the others made themselves at home. Varian unpacked the books, stacking them on the workbench. At the bottom of the satchel, he found his father’s Dark Brotherhood belt. Varian blew a sigh of relief. He thought he’d lost it.

“Hey, guys,” Yong said from the bedroom. “There’s a bunch of clothes in here. They’re really pretty.”

Nuru and Varian went to investigate. “Well, I’d definitely say a girl lived here,” Nuru said, eyeing racks of clothing in crushed velvet, rich embroidery, and lace. Fine jewelry in precious metals and gems of all colors lay heaped on a cabinet.  

“Not just a girl,” Varian added, finding detailed vests, dress shirts, and tailored pants. What were the names of Hugo’s three friends? Varian hadn’t wanted to bring them up again. “Let’s leave these things, alright?”

Out in the living space, Varian spotted the blueprint for a mouse automaton poking out of a pile. “How do the Trials end if one of the totems is a person?” he wondered aloud, looking over the diagram.

“Hugo knows, right?” Yong asked.

“About what?”

“About the elixir. He wasn’t, you know, awake when we gave it to him.”

Instead of answering, Varian slid the blueprint back.

“Varian!” Nuru shouted. “You didn’t say anything? All that dilly-dallying in the lower deck and you were too busy to talk?”

Varian’s stomach sank. He was making things worse. “I know. I will. Tonight.”

The other door banged open. “I’ve got Scotch eggs and pasties,” Hugo announced, waving parchment-wrapped packages. “Three kinds. Who likes bacon?”

Following dinner, the boys took the double room, Nuru claimed the chaise, and Hugo retreated to behind the door. After an hour, Varian got up and cautiously padded through the center portion, the chemlights above dim as their contents settled. From her place on the chaise, Nuru heaved a weary sigh. “For goodness’ sake. Stop sneaking. I already know. Just go.”

Giving her a bashful smile, Varian slid up to the door and knocked. “It’s me.”

The door creaked open. Hugo wasn’t wearing his glasses. He took Varian’s wrist and tugged him inside, closing the door. The space on the other side was a second bedroom with a single bed and another door that presumably led to the pipe system Hugo took to the market. The room was lavish and cozy, featuring throw pillows and sumptuous blankets. A bevy of lit candles sat atop a dresser. When was the last time Varian saw candles instead of artificial light? Ornate mirrors framed by every metal imaginable covered the walls. Their surfaces did interesting things with candlelight, throwing flickering reflections along the metal ceiling and over the both of them as they lay together.

Being the second time to share a bed, this was vastly superior to the first, mostly because Varian didn’t have to comfort an emotionally unstable Hugo. Having a door wasn’t too shabby either. The Dregs were tepid as is, but after a while their breaths and body heat turned the room stifling. Even with Hugo’s full weight on top of Varian, he didn’t seem as heavy as when he was dead, like Hugo’s life force gave off buoyancy.

“Wait,” Varian said, pushing Hugo’s shoulders back before they got carried away. “I need to tell you something.”

“Me, too.”

“You – you do?”

"Mm-hm." Hands braced on either side of Varian’s head, Hugo looked down at him. His lips were swollen. “Your eyes are like Neserdnian waters. Absolutely clear blue. You know that, right?”

“Um, I guess.” Praise from someone he found attractive, who was currently on top of him, made Varian squirm uncomfortably. Hugo’s affections had a way of engulfing him, knocking sense out of his head. His touch was, in turn, either gentle or forceful. Varian enjoyed both.

“That’s the color I tried to replicate in my glacial orbs.”

“Cool fact.” Varian tried again to gather his thoughts. He wished he knew more about Hugo. If he understood the past, Varian could anticipate the best course of action in telling him about the future. “Hey, uh, you said there’ve been explosions in the factories above. Is that what happened to your family when you were a kid?”

Hugo rolled off, propping his head up with a hand. Candlelight skipped across his face, warming his pale skin. “Don’t know. Probably.”

“How are you fine with not knowing about your own life? Don’t you want answers?” Varian lifted his hand to brush Hugo’s cheek.

Hugo intercepted the hand and held it down between them. “Nevermind my life. What do you want?”

Varian took time to think. The answer had changed as he’d grown. Once, projects and ideas filled his head to bursting. As Royal Engineer, his duties were to propel Corona into a new age of industry. But him? Just for him alone? “I… I want to matter. And not for, like, one big deed. I want to make things that will outlast me. Things that will change the way the world operates for the better. Like Demanitus. Like one of those crystals.”

“You… want to be a Saporian crystal?” Hugo said with an amused smirk.

“Yeah. Metaphorically. I’ve used a bunch of them in Demanitus’ machines. They’re what makes everything function. They’re integral. And… that’s how I wanna be.” As much as he built and as hard as he tried, he couldn’t predict the impact he’d have. It hurt to know that Hugo would see whether he succeeded, yet he himself never would.

Hugo’s smirk faded. “Blue, nobody is going to say you didn’t matter. That you didn’t do your best.”

“It’s not enough,” Varian said shaking his head. His voice grew softer. “I need to do better. I need to make sure I don’t…”

“Lose yourself again? Like there’s a karmic scale? Tip it so far to one side that the other doesn’t register?”

“I… yes,” Varian whispered.

This time, it was Hugo that put a reassuring arm around him and pulled him close. “Doofus,” he mumbled into Varian’s dark hair. “You’re already too good for this world.”

As they drifted to sleep, Varian swore to himself, I’ll tell him in the morning. Just one more night.

Later, Varian woke to hushed voices. They had a ringing quality to them, as if echoing through the adjoining pipe. His hand traveled the bed, finding it empty. All the candles had burned to wax puddles. He lifted his head. The far door was cracked enough to see a red glow, the same as Hugo’s chemlight.

“Why would I do anything for you?” Hugo whispered in a low growl. “You literally stabbed me in the back.”

When Donella spoke, Varian’s breath stilled. “Nothing has changed,” she insisted. “This is all proceeding accordingly.”

Stunned, Varian didn’t know whether to rush to Hugo’s side or get Nuru and Yong out. They were in a genuine thieves’ den, and access to the pipe tunnels meant others could travel it as well. Hugo’s safehouse wasn’t safe.

“Everything has changed!” Hugo insisted. “I’m not yours anymore!”

A mirthless grunt. “You’re his? I’d never taken you for an idiot. He’s not in this for you. He handed you a future he has no method of joining you for.”

Uncertainty made Hugo’s voice waver. “What do you mean future?”

Following a torturous pause, Donella purred, “Oh, dear boy. You’re about to need both a friend and all the help you can get. My offer still stands. Don’t waffle now.”

Varian cringed. Donella had her boot on both their necks. She knew about the elixir – using it had been her plan all along. An unsettling notion arose. She hadn’t chosen Hugo for this mission by drawing straws. He was close to Varian’s age, flirtatious, and from the Iron Kingdom. Everything she’d wanted to occur had. None of it was Hugo’s fault – he remained a pawn being moved by both Donella and Varian. Telling Hugo about the elixir now seemed immensely callous. Varian would have to divulge that Hugo still had no say in his life and that his fleeting contentment sat on a sandpit of lies.

The exit door creaked. Varian feigned sleep as Hugo came back in. The red light went out, and something clanked onto the dresser. Hugo slid back into bed and hugged him tight. Varian opened his eyes. The clockwork dragonfly he asked Hugo to send sat atop the dresser. Misery bubbled up as he realized he was still forcing Hugo to feed Donella information. They’d both played straight into her hands.

Chapter Text

Waking up on Hugo’s chest was one of the best and worst experiences in Varian’s life. Comforting closeness was buried beneath a mound of remorse. He’d missed his window to come clean about the elixir before Donella got in the way. He put his chin on Hugo’s sternum and watched him sleep.

He’d been destined to love Hugo since knocking him overboard, and there was no way Donella could have orchestrated that. Trapped within the churning gears of her plan, they’d found something genuine and unexpected. Hugo seemed a solid partner, doting and present. His actions had a crisp edge of caution however, making him a little too eager and intense, as if greedily taking as much as he could before the bottom fell out of their relationship. A lot had gone wrong in his life, and Varian knew it.

Hugo stirred, slurring, “You’still here.” He wiggled. “And you’re jabbing me with your chin.”

Varian adjusted. “Of course I’m here.” He twisted the cord of Hugo’s chemlight in his fingers. “You like me, right?”

A chuckle rumbled in Hugo’s chest. “What gave it away?”

“Even if… I did something you didn’t agree with?”

Hugo sat up on his elbows. The cord slipped away. “Blue… you’re not a guy that’s careless with decisions. Besides, it’s you and me, remember? Always.”

The grin Varian gave was only half-forced. He reached, stroking blonde hair. “Yeah. That’s what I promised.”

Varian kept hold of airy feelings of contentment and fondness until breakfast, when Hugo said in front of the group, “Oh, hey. That dragonfly came back. Flew straight through one of the grates in the front wall. Do I know how to build with aerodynamic precision or what?” Varian almost choked on a boiled egg. He hadn’t expected Hugo to be forthright about meeting with Donella, but the outright lie came as a shock. 

Later, in a dingy Dregs bathhouse housing copper tubs in stalls featuring lukewarm water, Varian sank beneath the surface. Black and teal hair drifted above his face, and he enjoyed the diffusion of sound separating himself from the rest of the world, not unlike the way his Darkness sawed the edges off his emotions. Staying under, he contemplated options around his dilemma.

One – Tell Hugo that he was facing eternity alone and brace for the worst. Would Hugo leave him rather than plan for an ending to their affiliation? He seemed the type to avoid messy, emotional conflict, so Varian feared the answer was ‘yes’.

Two – Wait. How long until Hugo suspected something had changed in him – a decade? If he didn’t age, eventually that would be apparent. Then Varian would be right back at option number one.

Three – Take it to his grave. What did he really owe Hugo? Keeping his meeting with Donella a secret meant both were playing a game of chicken, each waiting for the other to slip. If Hugo didn’t trust him, anything they had didn’t really matter, so what was one more lie?

Hugo knocked on the bath’s partition, his voice distorted under water. “Hey, you’ve got to get out eventually.”

Varian broke the surface, gasping for air. He shoved sopping hair from his eyes, unable to tell the difference between dripping water and tears. “Yep. Coming.”

As the others ate lunch, Varian stared at the inside of the sealed brass door without seeing it, examining their situation. It was difficult to tell if continuing this quest did more harm than good. He hadn’t truly lost anything yet. Hugo was still with them, embodying the rewards of the first five Trials, even though he didn’t know it. Yong and Nuru were safe, bystanders in Donella’s scheme without being embroiled in it. Varian and Donella seemed to share the same goal – finding his mother.

He looked down at the dragonfly’s note in his hand, rereading it. Confirmed by Donella, yes, Ulla had worn rubber soles, solidifying that his mother – The Woods Witch – had been working with electricity.

A hand waved in front of his face. “Are you gonna finish that?” Yong asked.

“Um, no. Here you go,” Varian said, relinquishing some of the fried fish and potatoes they’d gotten from the market.  

Nuru and Hugo had the books open. “Distillation,” Nuru read from Demanitus’ Tome. “A boiling point, the final purge. Freeing of the spirit. But there’s no clue about where the next Trial is beyond the upper part of the city.”

“Sure there is,” said Hugo. He had Varian’s compilation journal in his lap. “Don’s note. The stage is set. So that’s it.”

“What’s it?” Yong asked with his mouth full.

Hugo tapped the page. “Almost all of her hints have been specific. There’s only one stage in The Clockwork City worth mentioning – the opera house. There’s some ritzy event there every week. Rich people need something to fill their time.”

A headache pounded in Varian’s temples. He chased it back with a long drink of water from the safehouse’s collection of crystal glassware. They would have no idea how to decipher Donella’s clue without a local on their crew. Hugo’s involvement was necessary for their success. Just as Donella planned.

Hugo caught Varian staring and gave him a warm smile. “What? You know I’m remarkable.”

“Completely,” Varian said, trying to match Hugo’s expression. His heart felt heavy as a sack of beans.

Nuru rolled her eyes at them. “Alright. The opera house. What part would be old enough to house something Demanitus built?”

“Seating and stage are out,” Hugo said, drumming fingertips on the table. “Too modern. But the place used to be a lyceum.” 

“A lecture hall,” Varian translated. “One that Demanitus taught at?”

“Indeed. We’ll need to get backstage.” Hugo pulled a fresh blueprint page from his stack, along with a quill. He sketched the opera house floorplan while the others looked over his renderings for the city above. They were plentiful and detailed.

“These are really good,” Yong praised. “I’ll bet they’re helpful for when you’re stealing things.”

Nuru’s eyes shot in Hugo’s direction. His quill didn’t even skip. “They are.”

That evening, after going over their plan, Hugo motioned the others into the room with the double beds. He gestured at the generous number of fine garments. “Put your fancy pants on, kids. We’re going to the opera.” Yong and Nuru started rifling through the clothes.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Varian asked. These items had belonged to Hugo’s lost friends.

Hugo rotated his shoulder in a meek shrug. “Not like anybody’s using them,” he mumbled. Under Hugo’s direction, they all changed outfits.

Yong ended up in mustard-colored breeches, tall stockings, and suspenders over a short-sleeve shirt with brass buttons. A cropped russet jacket made him appear taller and slimmer. His hair went into a deep part, slicked down on one side, the rest sticking up in a wild cowlick.

Nuru selected a navy pick-up skirt featuring bows and ruching, along with black-and-white stripped leggings. Her corset was pliable and embossed with gold embroidery. Her arms and shoulders were bare. She separated her hair, twisting it into two loose buns that sat atop her head like mouse ears. Pouched belts with bronze grommets crisscrossed her waist. She took ownership of the compass, keeping it away from Varian.

Hugo put his hair into a wide, high braid that tapered to a narrow tail in the back. He wore fitted leather pants and a moss-green sleeveless duster with a split hem and pewter cogs on the lapels over a platinum vest with fine, silver chains. He kept the same cream, loose-sleeved shirt from the ship, the chemlight and his dagger, but set his glasses aside.

Varian wore a robin’s-egg blue waistcoat with an open back and pushed the sleeves of his white dress shirt up, baring fingerless leather gloves with buckles over the wrists. He added pinstripe pants, a silver pocket watch, and his dad’s Dark Brotherhood belt. He raked his hair back under his goggles and kept his own chemlight under his shirt.

They all looked like members of the Pittsford elite.

Back above The Dregs, they ventured to a colossal, stunning building of matte iron. The Clockwork City’s finest stepped off their automated carriages and filed through the doors. Hugo solved the issue of ticketing by posing as a footman, nimbly snatching tickets as the upper class stepped down from their transport. They ushered into the building before anyone was the wiser.

The foyer was abuzz with anticipation and high-brow chatter. Nuru warily hid her face behind a jeweled fan and held Yong’s hand as the boy looked around, open-mouthed at the people in their finery and the vineyard-style auditorium with its advanced acoustics and sloping seats. Elaborate chandeliers hung from the ceiling featuring scrolling bronze metalwork capped with clear glass, the filaments on display. Plush rugs and brocade curtains helped redistribute sound. An orchestra tuned oddly metallic and deeply based instruments.

Hugo accepted two coupes of champagne for himself and Varian. Varian stared into his drink, nerves still on edge over his secret. Noticing he was upset, Hugo twined their fingers and brought Varian’s knuckles to his mouth, which did nothing to help his nausea. “You look good,” Hugo assured.

“Thanks,” Varian muttered, wishing one of Demanitus’ plans contained a time machine.

Worry cast a shadow over Hugo’s face. “What’s wrong? You’ve been on the moon all day.”

Varian shook his head clear. “Nope. I’m fine. I’m here. We’re in the home stretch. Let’s do this.” He was grateful that Corona would be their next stop. He wanted Rapunzel’s advice on how to navigate a rocky start where someone was less than truthful.

The house lights flashed, a signal to take their seats. Hugo took an aisle seat in the back, Varian next to him, then Nuru, then Yong. Once the opera started and everyone’s attention focused on the show, the four of them would sneak backstage to do reconnaissance and seek the next inscription. The chandeliers dimmed, and the group readied themselves for their exit. A single limelight hit the stage. Donella stepped into its center.

Varian leaned forward in his seat, mouth parting. His gaze shifted to Hugo then back at the stage. Had Hugo known about this? So far, all his lies had been in service of protecting Varian. What else had he and Donella discussed?

“Welcome, patrons,” she greeted the audience. “Our city’s board of directors has requested that I, your Overseer of Technology, give tonight’s curtain speech. We are enjoying the midst of a revolution of industry – smelting, mass production, boundless agriculture, and the latest in consumer goods – all thanks to the prosperity of The Clockwork City and, by extension, the whole of Pittsford.” The crowd broke into patriotic applause. When the claps subsided, Donella resumed talking. “We are the hub of progress, and my announcement tonight is of a proposal – a dream decades old that finally sits on the cusp of fulfillment.” She flaunted something teal and diamond-shaped in her hand.

Recognizing it, Nuru pulled on Varian’s sleeve. He knew what it was, had seen plenty on Demanitus’ machines and in the rocky ceiling in Koto. A Saporian crystal.

“Under my supervision,” Donella continued, “our industrialization will extend to the rest of the kingdoms, not with pipes and wires, but by using condensed, self-contained sources of electricity, allowing for fully automated assembly lines. No more factory workers. No more incidents or tragedies. Just clean, efficient output.”

Nuru whispered, “Crystals don’t have the kind of energy to power assembly line machines.”

“Electricity magic does!” Yong said in a voice that wasn’t nearly quiet enough.

“What on Earth is that nonsense?” Hugo grumbled, glancing down the row at Yong. “Pittsford moves forwards, not backwards into hocus pocus.” He ground his teeth as he watched Donella.

Varian didn’t speak. He understood Donella’s goal. She’d never ceased the work she and Ulla started. Safe, consistent power available to all the kingdoms in all the world. Owning the knowledge of how to manufacture something like that would bring esteem and riches beyond belief. Based on the divided structure Hugo’d painted The Clockwork City to have, Donella’s motives were rational, based on logic and welfare. Varian saw his mother in a different light – not as an unhinged witch with out of control powers in Ingvarr – but as a practitioner, perfecting her skills to help bring about a new age of engineering by linking magical energy to easily transportable gemstones. The concept was ingenious, and he was envious that he hadn’t considered it.

Donella wrapped up her speech with, “By this time next year, my associate and I will be in full production of readily available energy sources. I look forward to your gracious support as we all move into glorious prosperity. But for tonight, please enjoy Orpheus and Euridice.” The audience applauded once more, and Donella moved offstage and into the wings.

“Wait… what associate?” Varian asked as the opera lights went out fully.

Strings thrummed and keys chimed. As the overture swelled, Hugo slipped out his seat, pulling his dagger and jeopardizing the plan.

Chapter Text

Varian raced up the raked seating, into the opulent lobby, and down a vacant hall, chasing the split hem of Hugo’s long duster down stairs and around corners. “Hugo!” he hissed. “Wait!” He followed the blonde through a side door and into the wings of the opera house. Velvet curtain legs ran floor to ceiling. A bustling crew ran the flyrail with counterweights and sandbags, moving magnificent backdrops and scenery as the show played on. Actors with painted faces and ornate costumes waited for their cues. Hugo snaked between them, his tall figure obscuring a glare from the footlights in his search for Donella.

Varian snagged his arm and dragged him away from the ensemble. “What are you doing?” He tried to keep his voice down, yet still be heard over the music.

“Putting an end to this. I’m done spending my life looking over my shoulder. This is how I solve things,” Hugo said, lifting the dagger. “Blue, she’s still after you, after me. As long as she’s out there, she won’t leave us alone.”

Though grateful for Hugo’s honesty, Varian couldn’t allow him to fall further into corruption. “If you do this, then you’re right – you are the bad guy.” Assassinating Donella would only add to their problems. She was still guiding them and might hold the key to finding Ulla alive.

The opera’s cast gave them dirty looks for disrupting the wings. Varian tried to drag Hugo back into the hall, but he snapped his arm free and spouted, “She killed me!”

“I was there,” Varian coldly reminded. “And that… really is my fault. I didn’t have to listen to her. I didn’t have to come on this quest. I could have worked harder – come to Pittsford first, learned more about her. Or Ingvarr, and known more about my mom. Instead, I dove straight into the Trials without fully researching them.”

Hugo shook his head, unconvinced. “I was involved before you were. She sent me after you knowing how the Death Trial was going to play out. She tricked me, same as you.” He flipped the dagger over and over. “Blue, you already know what I’ve done. And if I’m the guy that gets people killed, it’s time I live up to the hype. What’s a little more blood on my hands?” He stepped away from Varian and nearly smacked into Nuru.

Her gold eyes locked onto Hugo. “What do you mean?” she asked. Yong was behind her, peering around her elbow. “I thought you were just a thief. Varian…” Her gaze bounced between the two of them. “Is he also a murderer?”

Hugo froze. His gaze slid to Varian for help. Hugo’s past wasn’t a secret Varian had consciously withheld. He kept plenty about Hugo to himself.

“Hugo, you… you kill people?” Yong stammered.

Since Hugo remained silent, Varian spoke for him. “Just… it’s complicated, pal.”

“And you still had us trust him?” Revulsion twisted Nuru’s face as she regarded Hugo. “I knew it. Something about you was always rotten.”

Hugo did the predictable thing – he stalked off, venturing deeper into the opera house, the steel of his boots clanking against titled floor as he drew his red light to see. Varian chased him, with Nuru and Yong in pursuit. “Hugo, stop! They don’t know the whole story!” Just like The Dregs, the opera house sported levels, which Hugo pounded down. The further they went, Varian knew Donella’s hint held weight. Passing by stored drapery and cycloramas blurred fantasy and reality, giving the impression of traveling through time. They found themselves in an older part of the building, the opera’s iron exterior giving way to stonework.

Eventually, they reached a crowded storage room, musty with mold. They moved past old set pieces draped in dusty fabric, shelves of feathered and beaded headpieces tarnished from age, and racks of phony, rusted weaponry. Nothing bared the advancement in design and craft being used in the opera above. Given how diligent Pittsford was about streamlined efficiency, they had to be in a very old level, another that had been conveniently forgotten about.

A collection of rolling doors with peeling paint sat pushed against the walls. One was just a frame, the inside dark as if leading to an adjacent chamber. That was the door Hugo slipped through. Varian and the others followed and bumped into Hugo’s still form. Varian griped, “I know I said stop, but I didn’t think it’d be so sudd-”

He stopped talking and stared at the chamber. All around him – the walls, ceiling, and floor – were inlaid with discs of glass no bigger than a coin. They reflected Hugo’s light, giving the room a sinister feel with all the red. Varian pulled his own light and inspected the nearest wall. It wasn’t glass as the discs weren’t flat. They were multifaceted like – “Prisms! The entire room is covered with thousands of prisms!”

“Not the entire room,” Yong said, pointing at a squat, sturdy podium of solid marble shoved into a corner.

Nuru walked around it and looked down at the top. “Well, there you go. Four lines that rhyme.” They all read the inscription to themselves, even Hugo, who leaned over them, arms folded, a discontent twisting his mouth.

Remember the Past

And Face Your Horror

To Find the Truth

And Rewrite the Lore

“It’s… about a memory,” Varian concluded. “A bad one. And changing something about it.” He glanced up, determination setting his features. “Okay. I’ve got this one. Total cake.” He prepped himself to relive the amber incident once again. No problem. He now knew a dozen different ways to rectify his plight. Watching Hugo die, though horrible, had a swift resolution. Toiling for months beneath the amber statue of his father was a different story.

A partition covered in more prisms slid down to block the formerly open doorway. They were sealed in. A dot of light formed in the center in each disc. Both chemlights were put away.

“Alright, guys,” Varian said. “Follow my lead. I might get… well, freaked out… but I can push through it.” He’d call up his Darkness to assist him. This time, he’d keep calm and level-headed. He closed his eyes and focused his mind, picturing crackling, creeping branches of amber. He saw snow, felt frustration, loneliness, and desperation. Treading lightly around those emotions, he was careful to avoid thoughts of wrath and retaliation.

When Varian felt prepared, he opened his eyes.

The group stood at the back of an utterly opulent room heaped with items. Engraved chests sat stacked beside lush furniture. Curios full of strange yet exotic and impressive objects lined one wall. Potions in every shade lined shelves on the opposite wall. Gulls cawed and soared outside a wide glass window draped with heavy, rich curtains tied with braided tassels. On the other side on the pane, a harbor bustled several stories below. Across the water, a tall lighthouse stood on the opposing hillside. Varian recognized it as the infamous one from Neserdnia, housing a huge, blue gem that shined day and night instead of a lantern.

“Is this Corona?” Yong asked.

The room seemed so real. Varian brushed over lavish linen draping the back of a chair. His hand drifted through the object. Alright. So the room was a replica. Ulla’s note mentioned Bending light. The prisms were creating an optical illusion, like a mirage, though the location was foreign. Confused, Varian answered, “No, it’s not…”

A subtle scratching sound came from a door leading in. Nuru grabbed Varian and Yong and pulled them away. Hugo backed into a corner with a thump and a gasp. He looked stricken, complexion turning green, muttering, “No, no, no, no, no,” on repeat.

The oval doorknob jiggled, twisting right and left. Suddenly, the door banged inwards, wood splintering around the lock. A sturdy boy with dark skin and thick braids trailing down his back lowered his boot and stepped into the room. Kneeling in the hallway, a younger Hugo peered around the broken door, lockpick in his hand. “You couldn’t have waited twelve more seconds while I got that?” he asked in a vexed tone. Hair hung to his shoulders, and his glasses were square, not round. Two others were with them. All four carried some type of bag.

The stocky boy threw his arms wide. “No one’s gonna care what happens to old, dusty spoils. If they were worth money, Neserdnia would have sold them by now.”

A tiny but curvy girl with tight ginger curls angled around them. She was the type of pretty that made men dumb – dimples, doe eyes and full lips. “We’re liberators – taking unwanted things off their hands.”

“Somebody wants them,” Young Hugo interjected with logic as he stood, “or we wouldn’t have been sent here.” Someone dressed entirely in black, complete with cowl and gaiter mask, jostled his shoulder in comradery, but said nothing. The younger Hugo huffed and pushed his glasses up. A mechanical mouse crawled down his arm and wiggled between the floorboards.

Varian blanched. Was this the day Hugo’s friends died? If this was their worst collective memory, of course, Hugo would win out. He felt ashamed assuming his memory would be the one they dealt with. A glance revealed Hugo pressed into the corner, sinking to the floor, eyes wide and unblinking. Varian, Nuru, and Yong all stood clear as the four figures from the past moved about.

The younger Hugo closed the broken door behind him. He wore the same crosswise haversack he still had today. His keen eyes scanned the room. “Ash, is this it?” The person in black draped themselves across an overstuffed chair and tapped a booted heel on the lid of a chest. Young Hugo undid the clasps and flipped it open. He grinned in approval and reached inside. “Well, this is unexpected yet awesome.”

The ginger girl slapped his hand. “Nuh-uh. No playing. You break something, and we don’t get paid.”

He gestured at the contents of the chest wearing an expression of bewildered disappointment. “But look at it, Bex! Some of it’s shiny!”

The boy who kicked the door open said, “Whenever you find something weird, you start taking it apart. Guy shaved twenty percent off our last haul.” He slung his pack at Hugo. “Keep your hands busy.”

Young Hugo snorted, arranging both bags to hang from his sides like a pack mule. “I don’t stumble on the job, Geo. I’m not the guy who choked today convincing the Nesdernian guards that we’re kids on a historical tour.”

The corners of Ash’s eyes crinkled in amusement.

“I didn’t choke!” Geo pointed at his throat. “These pipes are clear!”

Bex plucked a chunky bracelet decorated with big blue gems from the chest and slipped it onto her wrist. She twirled on a path to the window, passing right through Nuru as she went. “Kinda did. Good thing the rest of us were there – I’m charming, Ash is sneaky, and Hugo’s smart. Next time, leave the talking to me.” She held the bracelet up to the sunlight.

“Well, I… I’m good for things too!” Geo protested, crossing muscular forearms.

“You’re the brawn to my brains,” Young Hugo said. “You excel at, eh… fighting.” He began shoveling the oddest collection of items into his bags – jewelry, books, figurines, bleached bones, small pots, and cloth sachets. Ash fished a large coin out of the pile and rolled it between their fingers the same way Hugo’d toyed with the sugar cube when he met Varian at the inn.

Anticipating that the treasure would be stereotypical riches made the cache even more jarring. It held unique war spoils, not gold. “Hugo,” Varian asked, turning his head, “what did you come here to take?”

In a state, Hugo could only shake his head. This day lived in infamy for him and witnessing it in perfect clarity had to be torture.

Young Hugo opened a second chest containing a variety of embellished weaponry and armor. As he struggled to make room for the new pieces in his bags, Geo drew a bejeweled sword from the pile and tested the weight. “Ya know,” Geo said, “for a kingdom that folded, Saporians had some cool stuff.”

Varian swallowed a gasp. Big Saporian haul from when the kingdom fell, Hugo had said on the ship weeks prior. The collection of oddities was a strange choice for four kids to target, likely meaning it hadn’t been their decision. “Hugo,” Varian tried again, “who was your employer?”

As Hugo took a breath to respond, a squeaking beneath the floorboards made everyone, past and present, stop and listen. The squeaking turned incessant, like an alarm ringing.

Young Hugo stood and backed up, eyes scanning the ground as if trying to pinpoint the exact location of the mouse. The moment he looked down, the rest of the room lost resolution, turning indistinct. This was Hugo’s memory – without his full attention, details turned vague. A rumble built underfoot. Young Hugo glanced back up, and for an instant, the room shifted back into focus.

A concussive blast pressed a blue-hued impression into their eyelids. The explosion wasn’t flame or gas, just force that disintegrated the windowed wall leading out to the harbor. Glass shattered and stone broke apart. Ears ringing, Varian saw that half the treasure room had disappeared, taking parts of the upper and lower floors with it. Sunlight spilled in and a salty breeze blew through the gap. The air filled with pulverized masonry. He held out his hand and dust drifted through his gloved palm. Everything seemed tangible, but it was still only an illusion. Small favor that the blast had been so quick, the details of Hugo’s friends’ deaths remained unseen.

Coughing, Young Hugo hauled himself from the rubble. A bag hung from each shoulder, stuffed to bursting, and a trickle of blood dripped from a gash over his left brow. A ruckus flowed up from the harbor, people shouting in panicked voices. Young Hugo took a timid step, wide eyes raking the room, then bolted for the door.

The scene reset, and Varian and the others were alone again in a whole, clean treasure chamber. Yong held his hands over his ears from the previous blast and Nuru’s mouth hung open in an unladylike way. Hugo cowered in his corner, arms around his knees with his face buried, wedging himself between the would-be exit and the podium. Strange how someone so tall could make himself so tiny.

At the doorway, the knob jiggled before the door was kicked inward. “You couldn’t have waited twelve more seconds while I got that?” Young Hugo asked from the hall.

Nuru gave a half-gasp, half-sigh. “We have to watch this again?” Hugo made a distressed sound as his old group reentered saying the same dialogue. Her expression softened. “Hugo, I – I’m sorry you have to go through this.” Green eyes snapped to hers. Despite her opposition of Hugo’s values, she was always quick to set aside judgement in the moments she had to.

“Saying this sucks doesn’t quite equate my level of displeasure,” Hugo muttered. “Call me a thief – fine. I am. This is why you can also call me a killer.”  

Yong patted him on the shoulder. “You didn’t do this.”

Hugo shook his head. “Kid, that’s nice to say, but –”

“No, no. Believe me,” Yong insisted. “I’m an expert at explosions. This wasn’t a gas, or something chemical. No temperature or pressure shift. Something happened in the room. An inciting incident. And we saw the old you. You didn’t do anything.”

“It had to be my mouse. It was the only thing I couldn’t see.”

Nuru’s brows furrowed. “The room went all squiggly went you looked down. You didn’t see everything. You’re an unreliable narrator.”

Varian put a hand through the image of the open door, feeling the rounded discs of the prisms beyond the illusion. No way out. “Find the truth,” he said. “Rewrite the lore.” He turned and crossed through the center of the room. Bex twirled through him on her way to the window. “We’re in a loop. We have to find out what happened. All the info is here. We just need to figure it out. So, although we can’t interact with anything, we’ve got sight, sound, and scent working for us,” he noted, trying to absorb as much detail as possible. “Anything Hugo experienced.”

“We’ve got vibrations, too,” Yong added. He tapped his shoe against the floor. “Something shook before the big kaboom.”

Geo pulled the sword and swung it. Though it wasn’t solid, Nuru ducked out of the way. “How do we even start?” she asked.

They all looked at Hugo, who still had his knees up to his chin. Varian sank down next to him and squeezed his arm. “Hey, I know this is rough, but stay with us. Your memory is perfect. What else can you tell us?”

“I’ve gone over it every day for years!” Hugo spat. “I don’t know!” Quietly, he added, “I hate him.”

“Who?”

“Demanitus. This isn’t a test, it’s just cruel.” As the squeaking started once more, he put his hands over his head and winced, bracing.

The room exploded. Young Hugo raced out. The only reason he’d survived had been by inadvertently putting the treasury between himself and the blast, which seemed to originate by the window.

Everything restarted. The door burst open. “You couldn’t have waited twelve more seconds while I got that?”

Hugo curled into an even tighter ball. “I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered.

Varian blew a low breath and stood, biting his lip. Retraumatized, Hugo wasn’t going to be any help. Yong watched Bex move through the room in springy ease and kept pace with her, studying her movement. Varian caught Ash playing with the coin and knew he had to give the task his full attention, effectively abandoning Hugo to sit and watch his memory repeat until they completed the Trial.

“Hey there, honey,” Nuru said, sitting on the floor next to Hugo. She put an arm around him. “I’ve got you, okay? Don’t listen to anything but me.” She rocked him slightly and began humming a lullaby in his ear, nodding to Varian. Hugo leaned into her, curling tighter.

Good. With Hugo occupied, he could focus on the Trial. He began to preempt the beats, stepping around the action. “Door. Chest. She goes to the widow. He gets the sword. The coin. The mouse.” Varian took a knee, listening hard. A subtle chirping marked the mechanical mouse’s journey. It never seemed to get further than halfway to the window. A pinprick of sparkle shimmered in the corner of his eye. Ash’s coin flipped in the air, metal reflecting sunlight. Alarmed squeaking began.

Visuals went wonky again as Young Hugo glanced away. They could only see what he’d seen, vague intuition making the activity in the room continue but it was a guess deep in Hugo’s mind rather than a full memory.

When the room exploded again, Varian pulled his Darkness up, letting him push through the horror of what happened. He could feel any way he wished, but these weren’t his friends, and they’d been dead a long time. Outside, a heap of debris tumbled to ground level. Varian stepped to the edge but couldn’t see anything beyond a wash of watery colors. Young Hugo hadn’t seen the aftermath, at least not from this angle, and couldn’t add any details.

“Angle,” Varian muttered, as everything began again.

“You couldn’t have waited –”

Yong lost no time. He tailed Geo, watching the bigger boy, his hands, his feet, anything he came in contact with. It was maddening to observe at the same things over and over with no guidance as to what they were looking for. Varian scrunched his face. They were searching for logic in the land of Old Saporia. Uncle Ulric mentioned “Saporia’s collection of the occult”. The haul was jammed full of mystical items, and who knew what else sat in the rest of the Neserdnian tower. Even the lighthouse gem was a large crystal, the same Koto and Demanitus used to syphon energy. Yong laid down on the floor and pressed an ear to the boards.

Nuru leaned back as Varian took a knee and shook Hugo’s shoulder. “Did you use alchemical properties on the mouse?” He’d been convinced his mouse was responsible for what had unfolded.

Hugo blinked cloudy eyes. “No,” he said in a small voice. “She’s just mech – metal, springs, wires, and sensors.”

“Sensors for what?”

“Trip wires, gas traps –”

“A change in an energy field?” Yong asked from the floor.

Hugo sat up straight, breaking Nuru’s embrace. Lucid and confident, he said, “Yeah, she could sense that.”

The treasure the crew came to pillage was Saporian, containing mystical items with dangerous capabilities. Any one of the objects, mishandled, could be the cause of the explosion. “Something triggered a reaction,” said Varian. He frowned at the lighthouse framed in the window. Bex blocked his view as she admired the stolen bracelet, holding it up to the light. She stood in line with the far-off tower. “Angles,” he said again. “What if something that happened in here stretched clear across the harbor? The force of the blast went outwards, not up or in.” The lighthouse crystal had to contain an exorbitant amount of power.

“The origin of the blast,” Nuru said as she stood, “had to have occurred when the room got fuzzy. We need to know where everything was at that exact moment.”

They all looked. Young Hugo stepped back and glanced down. The entire room went blurry as the mouse shrieked. Everything snapped back into focus, then blue light and an eardrum-rending boom.

The door opened. “You couldn’t have –”

Following their new theory, Yong raced after Bex, Varian followed Geo, and Nuru tracked Ash. Hugo remained on the floor, regarding his younger self. “First, she takes the bracelet,” Yong said. “Then he” – he pointed to Geo – “lifted the sword.” Sure enough, Geo swung the sword, and a few strokes lined up at the same level as the bracelet. “But, the coin…” Ash twiddled the coin, but it stayed low. “Maybe that’s all there is?”

Were two items enough to cause a chain reaction that led to a burst of energy that leapt straight across the harbor? Varian had never pondered the mathematics of sorcery. His mind raced through every story and fairy tale he could remember. The same number kept popping up – three witches, three fates, three little pigs, three blind mice, three wishes. Primary colors. Borromeam rings and Valknuts. Even in science, sets of threes kept appearing – laws of motion, dimensions of space, states of matter. “No, it needs to be three.” He stared at the shining coin. Ash dropped their hand, wrist flicking back, the movement of someone about to casually toss something. As their hand snapped up, the room blurred. “That’s it! This is the moment!”

As the mouse wailed, they all held their breaths staring at where the coin should reappear. The room refocused. For an instant, all the items created a parallel line. Thin as a thread, a beam of blue light shot from where the coin was, to the swinging sword, through the bracelet on Bex’s wrist, and out the window, creating a channel of energy. The force of the explosion carried in the same direction, knocking the wall out.

Young Hugo stood next to Varian, panting in shock, the sole survivor. Nuru turned in their direction. “Okay... so, how do we Rewrite the Lore?” she asked.

They’d solved the mystery but couldn’t change the outcome.

Making a distressed noise, Young Hugo ran from the room. Varian watched as he disappeared into the false door created by the memory. His Hugo stared up, stunned silent, arms tight around his knees.

Yes.

They could.

The outcome was Hugo, his guilt and his shame. His heavy memories. Under the assumption that his mechanical mouse had been the rouge element to cause the calamity, he never clearly saw the tracing light. But he’d been innocent, the only one to stick to the job without handling anything.

Varian grabbed Hugo by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. “Hugo, it wasn’t you! It was never your fault! You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Absolved from years of guilt, Hugo wavered, sagging out of Varian’s grip. Nuru and Yong each took an arm, keeping him upright. He didn’t cry but gasped dry sobs as the illusion of the room shattered like a dropped mirror. Disjointed fragments of memory faded away, leaving them in darkness. The partitioned wall made a scraping sound as it slid out of the way, allowing for their exit.

Varian drew his chemlight. Under its green glow, he studied the glittering walls of the prism chamber. Astounding. Demanitus had found a way to duplicate memory in an absolutely identical manner. With this technology, someone could share their recollections in perfect replication with someone else, taking them on a journey through their own encounters. The irony of this chamber being lost in a vast opera house that told countless stories on the stage above wasn’t lost on Varian. But who went around trying to recount their awful past in old storerooms? So, the Trial remained hidden levels deep and eons later.

Exhausted, Hugo lay dramatically on the ground, an arm over his eyes. The others gave him privacy.

“This was less literal than the other Trials,” Nuru noted. “No actual Iron.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Varan countered. “Threes. Iron represents Judgment, Punishment, and Technological Advancement.” Had they visited his own memory after all, the symbolism would have still applied.

“Really?” Yong asked. “Where did you learn that?”

“The Bible.” At his friends’ askew glances, he said, “What? I read everything.”

“There’s a busted section.” At Hugo’s voice, the others turned back to him. Still on his back, he waved a finger at the shimmering prism ceiling. A single gem didn’t share its neighbors’ glamor. In fact, it was dull, gray, and –

“Nuru!” Varian called, stooping to lace his fingers. “See if you can reach that.”

She stepped a foot into his palms and he hoisted her, Yong’s hands adding support. When her fingers brushed the strange, round disk, it wobbled. “I think I can get this out,” Nuru said. With a gentle twist, it came free. Hugo was up on his feet in time to help her down.

They crowded around Nuru’s trinket. It was a perfectly round rock set in the setting of a simple metal ring. “Well… there you go, Nuru,” Varian said. “That’s a nugget of iron.”

“Waste of a ring,” Hugo grumbled. “It’s not even shiny.” He looked shaky and sallow, trophies of a rough evening.

Varian stared at him. Though they all worked to win this Trial, Hugo’s participation had to have been the toughest part. The initial experience had hardened him as a person, guilt guiding poor decisions as he grew into a man. He’d become an amalgam of his former crew, the skills of the others living on in him, making him slick, sneaky, and daring. “Here.” Varian offered the ring to him. “I know it’s not your ideal prize, but a consolation is better than nothing, right? Maybe… it can be a reminder that you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You’re just a guy, after all. And everybody makes mistakes.”

Hugo humbly accepted the ring. He frowned, timidly testing a finger for it to sit on. “Great,” he griped. “I died, then got to relive the worst day of my life over and over. The hits keep coming. Thanks, Demanitus.” The ring came to a stop on his right pointer. Hugo blew a long breath, then looked at the others. “I need a break from this. Who’s with me?”

Everyone raised a hand.

Chapter Text

During his tenure as a Corona official, Varian attended several royal balls where guests wore their finest attire and made polite small talk against the gentle backdrop of a string quartet.

A midnight event in The Dregs wasn’t comparable.

Nearly a hundred people crowded into a darkened automated steel mill three levels down from the surface. Bright showers of embers rained down every two minutes. Heat rippled the area above vats of liquid ore and the air carried the coppery scent of metal shavings. High catwalks on scaffolding traversed the facility, giving attendees safe places to stand and congregate. Molten metal burned almost neon on hot-rollers below. Those from The Dregs shared a similar appearance – a worn type of people, toughened by hardship, but alight with life, enjoying a peculiar version of freedom that excluded the safety net of societal propriety. Their lives were risky and difficult, but they persevered, chopping out an existence from the underbelly of The Clockwork City.

Troubadours played more of Pittsford’s uniquely bulky, deeply resonating musical instruments. Sound amplified through the metal structure, distorting the music with reverb. The industrial effect was exhilarating and foreign, sending a deep thrum to travel through Varian. High on a catwalk, he leaned away from the ledge and looked to the side. Behind him, Yong was falling asleep sitting on a crate, fists propping up his heavy-lidded face. Nearby, Hugo and Nuru spoke with their heads together, using animated gestures, straining to communicate over the music. To her discredit, xenophobia plagued Nuru, triggering Hugo’s constant defensiveness. Varian couldn’t tell what they said, but there was a lot of nodding and, hopefully, fence-mending. Both were smiling.

Absolved, their night out had been Hugo’s idea. Though Varian had Hugo beat in terms of true crime and prison service, Hugo had been trapped in the prison of his own guilt for longer. He’d taken them to the market stalls where he’d been procuring the finest of pilfered, day-old groceries. They’d wound through an odd sort of communal park without greenery, and ended up here, in a loud, hot, crowded nightspot that showed no intention of winding down.

Enthusiasm fluttered in Varian’s chest. They’d made it through Six Trials and soon he’d be going home for the last. He’d found lost family, made two good friends, and founded a relationship with an equal. How long until he saw his father again? Days? A week, tops? Solving the mystery of his mother was practically at his fingertips. Would he be bringing her back to Corona alongside Hugo? He gripped the catwalk’s railing, imagining the reactions his dad and Rapunzel would have.

Hugo and Nuru parted. Varian cocked his head at her. Things good? he asked with his eyes. She gave a thumbs up and eased Yong back so he could lean into her. The boy slumped against her like he would have done with one of his sisters. Winding down herself, Nuru put arms around him as if he was one of her brothers, rocking them to sleep. Was that how it went with siblings? Varian wondered. To communicate without words? He didn’t know. He might have, if things had gone differently early on with Rapunzel.

A tug on his hand tore Varian from his pondering. Hugo led him down a walkway, leading deeper into the crowd. From the way Hugo navigated the catwalks, he must have been here some other time with some other boy. Varian pushed it from his mind. Lost amongst strangers, they came to a stop. A spill of sparks rained down. Pressed together, the flickers were pinpricks of orange in Hugo’s eyes as Varian slid arms around his neck.

Since it was impossible to talk over the sound, they danced with foreheads touching, swaying to the beat of the music. Varian scratched the nape of Hugo’s neck the way he liked it, and Hugo squeezed him tight. They didn’t need words. Their connection was based on chemistry, Varian supposed, and chuckled at the double entendre. They kissed, long and soft, falling embers leaving a blazing impression behind their eyelids.

It was very late – or very early – when they left. Hugo led the way, Varian at his side, and Nuru and Yong trailing behind, yawning. A giddiness rode in Varian during their walk back to the safehouse. He didn’t know what would happen regarding his mother, but knew his future held Hugo. Varian watched him, his scrolling gait on long legs, duster swishing. He was scrappy, capable, and captivating. Hugo went to unweave his blonde braid, stretching arms over his head. Varian’s hand stopped him. “Keep it a while. I like this you.”

Hugo gave him a strange look but smiled. One of his falling hands took Varian’s. The dull stone of the Iron Trial ring didn’t glint at all. “Goofball. Okay.” He hauled Varian close, and they walked the rest of the way shoulder-to-shoulder. Anticipation tied Varian’s stomach in knots. He knew this was the night they’d do more than just sleep together – he felt it in the promise of Hugo’s eyes and the grip of their hands.

Back at the safehouse, Varian watched Hugo do the pins on the front door, memorizing the pattern. He could lock and unlock it himself now. “I’m bushed,” Nuru confessed as they went inside. She slumped onto the chaise.

Hugo shut the door and spun the dial on the inside. He rolled his shoulders back and propped hands on narrow hips. “Well, I feel great!” he exclaimed, and shot Varian a steamy look that made him blush.

“That’s prob –” Yong paused to yawn. “Probably because Varian used The Elixir of Life on you.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Yong!” Varian cried, a cold flush running through his body.

“What?” Nuru asked, sitting up at the outburst. “You said you were gonna tell him.” Her eyes darted from Varian to Hugo and back again. “Didn’t you?”

Varian mustered the gall to face Hugo, who wore a funny expression on his face. “Pardon me,” Hugo said, tapping a finger against his temple. “I must have gone daft. The Elixir of Life?”

“Uh-huh,” Yong said.

“That you got from…?”

“Well, all those totems.”

Hugo’s body went stiff. Slowly, he turned his head, accusation in his eyes. “And you elected to… say nothing?”

Varian cringed. There was no edging around facts now. “That’s how we got you back from The Black Kingdom. I just… well, I didn’t want you to panic.”

“Oh, you lied for my benefit?” Hugo bit, reminding Varian of the early days of their journey, before they knew each other. Alarm flashed across his reddening face. “Blue. My glasses. Is that why I don’t need my glasses anymore?”

“I… guess.” Things were falling apart so quickly. “Mostly likely, the Elixir cured you of everything, including aging or injury.”

Hugo’s voice sharpened with each word. “You theorize or you know?”

“I… well…” Varian stalled as if a better response would come to him. “Everything’s a theory until –”

In a fluid move, Hugo drew his dagger and slit his own palm. Stunned, the group panicked as he recoiled in pain, rushing to his aid. “Hugo, let me see!” Yong cried, trying to pry Hugo’s clenched hand open.

Hugo held it up, out of Yong’s reach. Through his teeth, he said, “Wait.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Nuru chastised, pulling at his arm.

Varian put a hand on his back. “Hugo –”

“Stop grabbing me!” Hugo barked, shaking them all off. “I’m good.”

“Please –” Nuru started.

“No. I’m good. Really.” Hugo opened his hand. He wiped blood away, but there was no wound, same as when he was stabbed. No one spoke as he stared at his palm. “This isn’t possible.” The skeptic now stood as a walking contradiction.

“I mean,” Nuru pointed out, “Obviously it is.”

After a heavy pause, he whispered, “I didn’t ask for this. Don’t I ever get a say in my own life?”

“Maybe Varian can help,” Yong said. “He does magic now, too.”

“Not like… a lot,” Varian muttered, his spirit withering. He hadn’t realized his pits of fibs had gotten so deep.

Hugo gave another dark stare. “Well, yeah,” he said, glaring with deadly intensity. “You left your magic wand on the ship.” He clenched his healed hand. “The Black Kingdom. And all the time since, Prometheus, Pittsford, you all knew.”

Yong waved his hand. “I knew last. Well, second to last.”

Hugo pinned Varian with disappointed eyes. “Blue… the ship.”

A lump formed in Varian’s throat. He knew what Hugo meant – all their late nights in the lower deck. All the chances he’d had to come clean and chosen to stall instead. “Yeah,” he confessed. “I meant to tell you and I just… didn’t.”

The subtle, incredulous shaking of Hugo’s head cut deep. “Anything else anyone just casually forget to clue me in on?”

“Um…” Varian spared a glace at Nuru, whose tilted head urged him to come clean. “There’s the matter of my mom and her… uh… electricity magic.” When Hugo’s mouth fell open, Varian prattled, “Which kinda paints everything in a clearer light, come to think of it. Her and Donella in Ingvarr. I mean, Ingvarr in general, honestly. The notion of a limitless energy source. A brighter future for the Kingdoms.”

“Don’s speech,” Hugo recalled. Disgust warped his mouth and wrinkled the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable. And everyone knew about this except for me? Blue, if you don’t trust me, then don’t trust me, but don’t act like –”

“Hey, I’m not acting anything.” Hugo’s disappointment lit a spark of shame inside Varian that kindled into a quick blaze. His temper spilled over. “You’re keeping things, too. You never said Donella visited, but I know she did.”

Hugo jabbed fingertips into the breast of his duster. “I junked my whole life for you, Varian!” he thundered, causing Varian to take a step back. Hugo only said his given name was when things were bad between them. He counted on his fingers. “I tried to keep you safe. I tried to get you to quit this quest. I tried to get you through it faster. I even tried to make you happy. And this is what I get back? I expected better outta you.” Fury made Hugo’s eyes wild. He stalked to his room and yanked the door open. “Have a grand time with your magic spells, charm bracelets, tea leaves, and secrets. If anybody needs an idiot with no clue, you know where to find me.” He slammed the door closed.

Varian rubbed his neck as Nuru ushered Yong into the second room and closed the door, leaving him to clean up his mess in private. His mood calmed. He understood Hugo’s ire and deserved it. After blowing a long exhale, he approached Hugo’s room. He knocked, and when there was no answer, he leaned on the door. Through it, he said, “Hugo, I do trust you. More than you know. And you’re the last person I’d wanna lie to. Well, you and my dad. I wanted to protect you. I thought I was helping, but I should have told you the moment I realized what I’d done. Guess I’m still doing the wrong thing, huh?”

He shifted against the door. Still nothing from the other side. “Things get taken away from you,” Varian continued. “I get that. But, I… I didn’t want to be one of those things. I was afraid of….” He sighed, the weight of his actions crashing down. “Exactly this. Of being too focused. Of rushing through things without considering the consequences. Of finding someone and being…” Tears welled, and he blinked them back. “Being the one that burned it all down.” He shook his head. “I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay before I said anything. But people like us, people who’ve seen or done too much, we’ll never be one hundred percent okay.” He mustered a fragile smile. “Hey. Maybe if we’re both fifty, that’ll be enough. What do you think? Can we manage that?”

It killed him to hear silence on the other side of that door. Varian grasped the handle. “Hugo, please. I love you.” As if ‘I love you’ was a bandage, but depleted, he had nothing left to say. Varian twisted the handle and opened the door.

The empty room was dark, the candles unlit and mirrors blank on their walls. The rear door gaped open. Varian sprinted to the secondary doorway, yanking his chemlight out. He ran into the old duct, charging forward until he reached a branching segment. He looked left and right and left again. There was no sound other than the faint drip of trickling water.

Hugo was gone. He’d taken himself – the avatar of The Elixir of Light – and the rock from the Iron Trial with him. They had nothing to show for the quest.

Varian didn’t know what to do. He backtracked to the safehouse and went inside, electing to leave the secondary door ajar. He lit a single candle and curled up in Hugo’s cold bed, watching the sliver of darkness between the cracked door and the pipework it led to. Even a surprise visit from Donella would be welcome – a paddle thrown his way as he careened downstream. He felt the oddest sensation of letting her down too. Though still her pawn, Varian knew she didn’t intend on harming him. She required him for something. But without Hugo, without tangible compensation for their efforts, the Trials meant nothing, the Eternal Library snatched from his fingers. Hugo had taken Varian’s future and answers to his past with him.

When Varian woke up alone, he knew Hugo wasn’t coming back, and that his journey was over.

Yong and Nuru rifled through the rest of the safehouse’s meager rations – stale biscuits and jarred condiments. Instead of eating, Varian browsed Hugo’s schematics of the city. To Nuru’s credit, she didn’t say, I told you so. Hugo’s absence was punishment enough. As toxic as it was to him, he wanted the compass back, to call out to his mother once again. Though the needle was possessed, the compass did aid him went he felt lost.

Using Hugo’s sketches, they could find their way back to the surface and board Prometheus for Corona. Varian asked Nuru, “Can you fly the ship on your own?” He could deal with the inner workings of the ship, but not as fast or efficiently as Hugo.

“What choice do we have?” Nuru said. She shoved a handkerchief laden with food in his direction. “Eat,” she ordered. He did.

They kept their Pittsford clothing on to avoid discussion with locals on their way to the docks. Varian hesitated at the front door, throat working a rough swallow as he gazed at the little safehouse, willing Hugo to appear at the last second. No such answer to his prayer. He slid the pins into the door, locking it. Nuru took the map, leading them, a sack of their old clothes over her shoulder. Yong carried a collection of Hugo’s more useful schematics, as there was no point in letting them go to waste. Varian folded his arms, head down, watching his boots and pinstripe-covered legs follow behind the others.

He'd been writing a fantasy. There were no perfect scenarios to wait for. Hugo dealt in harsh truths – would he have really held Varian’s actions against him? Now, rather than a limited amount of time together, they’d have nothing at all. He worried that, in the grand scale of Hugo’s lifespan, he’d eventually forget Varian. And maybe that would be for the best. He couldn’t hate Varian if he didn’t remember who he’d been or what they’d shared.

In a flash of red that blinded him, Varian hated Donella with seething vitriol. His fingers dug painfully into his arms. She’d dropped out of nowhere like hail to ruin his life. He could be in Corona right now, working on his leaky pipes, without the knowledge of any of this. He wouldn’t know his mother had been a witch. Hugo would be on some other mission, and they never would have met. Yong would be safe at home, and Nuru, plucky as she was, could have found help elsewhere.  

Back on the surface, feeling the sun for the first time in days, Varian’s eyes combed the streets, as if there was a chance of spotting Donella exiting one of the streetcars. She remained absent. Had he spotted her, he would have driven her to the ground and fought hand-to-hand, guards or not.

“Varian?” Yong asked, tugging on his sleeve. “Come on.”

He blinked, finding himself standing in the roadway with balled fists, Pittsford locals gawking at him as if he were a pitiful lunatic. Perhaps he was.

The lift system took them up to the skydocks where Prometheus drifted, tethered amongst other, more impressive crafts. Pittsford’s port seemed nearly full, ships close enough that their suspension balloons nearly touched. Varian felt eyes on him, and tried not to see Saporia in their designs. The kingdom had fallen long ago – it made sense the other empires adopted the same transport technology. It wasn’t logical to remain paranoid.

Yong boarded first, heading down into the lower deck to stow the blueprints. Nuru sprang across the narrow gangway and followed him, rolling up her city map for storage. Varian lingered on the familiar metal deck, gazing out at the towering city. The breeze tugged hair across his face in tuffs of black and teal. He pried the compass from its mount, eager to reach out to his mother, no matter the cost.

Ruddiger sprang down from the top of the cabin and scratched urgently at Varian’s leg. Unease clutched his gut. “Hey, hey. What's wrong, Bud?”

The door to the cabin creaked open, and steel soles struck the deck in tentative fashion. Varian whipped around to see a sheepish-looking Hugo approach with hands behind his back. Of course! Of course, Hugo’d gone back to the ship! Varian gave a half laugh-half gasp of relief. Things were going to be alright. They’d had a fight, that was all.

Ruddiger hissed, making Varian glance down. The raccoon had his back arched, tail stiff as a bristle-brush. He’d never been aggressive to Hugo before.

“Aw, Blue,” Hugo said in a melancholic voice. His hair was out of the braid and back in its standard ponytail. Pale blonde bangs hid his eyes. “You really should have stayed on the ground.” Gracefully, he rolled a wrist out from behind him and brought a closed fist towards his face. With a gentle puff, he blew a handful of Varian’s own sleep dust at him. The other hand dropped one of his orange smoke bombs. It popped like a small fireball.

Varian sank to the deck, clawing at threads of consciousness as figures stormed down the gangway and boarded Prometheus. Ruddiger leapt over his body in defense, but a beefy man with spiked, metal bracers caught him by the tail. “Took you long enough to get him back here, Killer,” he said in a rumbling voice. “Way to cash in on a last chance. She'd tagged you as an unstable component.”

“The ship makes traveling a no-brainer,” Hugo said. From Varian’s perspective, all he could see were his tall boots crossing the deck. “And I made sure all the goodies stayed on board.”

The books. The compass. Hugo insisted their items would be safe. A backup ploy in case they separated?

Half a dozen pairs of legs joined Hugo’s, adorned in a hodge-podge of spats, mismatched armor, threadbare socks, and well-cobbled shoes. Saporian styles. Hands grabbed Varian by the arms. “Secure him,” the big man said. “Let’s head out.”

Sleep fully took Varian as the ship launched from the dock.

Chapter Text

Varian’s return to consciousness was slow and spotty. Laughter and chatter, words indistinct, pierced the blackness before ebbing away. People he didn’t know milled about aboard Prometheus, his gut churning with the knowledge that they were Saporians, and he was helpless.  

A breeze lifted Varian’s lengthy bangs to tickle the bridge of his nose. He blinked heavy eyelids. The night sky stretched around him and the ship in flight, moonlight spilling down. He was upright, his weight pressing down on his heels. He lurched, but couldn’t move. Still woozy, he made a distressed sound and looked down. A glob of his own pink epoxy adhered him to the empty weapons rack at the helm, the wheel and cabin behind him. He gazed at the open hatch to the lower deck, the same Yong and Nuru had disappeared into. Beyond the hatch, casually leaning against the prow and twirling his collapsible wrench, was Hugo. His chemlight hung over his silver vest, glowing like a red-hot coal. His bow was strapped to his back. “What –” Varian croaked, feeling like his throat was stuffed with dry cotton. “What did you do with Nuru and Yong? Are they okay?”

Ruddiger chittered, clambered up Hugo’s shoulder and dropped an empty vial into his hand. Hugo nodded and stroked Ruddiger’s tail. “Don’t worry about them, Blue.” His demeanor was stony and closed. “Right now, you’re the one in trouble.”

“Ruddiger! Come help!”

The racoon looked between them and over Varian’s head. He shook his snout and peered at Hugo in anticipation. Hugo spun his finger in a circle. Ruddiger took the vial in his mouth and scurried away with it. Varian gawped like a dead fish. Ruddiger’s betrayal stunned him. Hugo… well, he’d been a wild card from the onset. Exhaustion flushed through Varian, and he sagged against his bonds. “You played me. You never stopped playing me.”

Hugo pushed off the prow’s tapered railing and strolled over to Varian, spreading his hands. “Ding ding. See, you caught up eventually. Good job, partner.”

When Hugo patted his cheek, Varian whipped his face away. The smugness in the blonde’s voice jabbed needles into his heart. Grief filled his chest, forcing pressure up his throat. Teardrops beaded in his lashes. “Hugo, please. Where are –”

“Stop,” Hugo snapped, eyes fierce and unblinking. His voice lowered. “You’ll ruin things.”

Voices drifted from the cabin. Varian caught bits and pieces. Something about, “By midday, at most,” and mutters of agreement. Were they going to the last Trial? Did they know about Hugo and the totems? “This wasn’t just Donella. This was your game, too.” Varian swallowed, wanting to be wrong. “Did you know what she was going to do to you in the Dark Kingdom?”

A hardening of Hugo’s tapered jaw. Something flickered in his eyes – anger, hurt, or sorrow. Varian wasn’t sure. “I’ve always been an acceptable casualty,” Hugo growled through his teeth. “Some weak link. Expendable.”

“Not on our team. We all have a unique relationship with one another, but we all care about each other.”

“What gave you the impression I cared about you?”

A sour taste crept up Varian’s throat. “You… you said…”

Hugo coughed a laugh. “Oh, I said? Well, let’s take that at face value, shall we? Come on. You always knew I was a liar. I lied.” He shook his head. “But, don’t be too hard on yourself.” He echoed Varian’s words from the prism room. “You’re just a guy, after all. And everybody makes mistakes.”

Something clattered in the lower deck, and Hugo twisted around. “Clumsy rat,” he growled.

The surge of heat Varian felt was like a fever breaking. It left him shaking and thankful to be stuck upright without risk of collapse. “Hugo, I’m sorry! I didn’t want to lie! I didn’t want to break my promise. I thought if you didn’t know about the Elixir, at least we’d have time. And after… after… well, we would have already had a good run. And I’d have been by your side as long as possible. Maybe not forever forever, but as close as I could manage.”

Reluctance wavered in Hugo’s eyes. It was quick, less than a heartbeat. Then, the curtain closed again. He snorted. “Why would I consider immortality a detriment? This means I get to do whatever I want. I’ll just start over and over again ‘til the world ends. And that’s fine. I don’t need anyone.”

“Should’ve let me gag him,” a deep voice said from behind Varian, causing him to jolt. He didn’t know anybody was so close. In hindsight, yeah, someone had to be at the wheel.

Hugo’s shrewd gaze tilted upwards. “Hey, I’m a nice guy, Cyrus. And I’ve earned the chance to say my part.”

Cyrus. Donella’s right hand, Varian recalled. “You aren’t nice,” Cyrus corrected. “You’re cunning.”

Hugo waved a hand. “Potato, potahto.”

Varian tipped his head back, praying this was another terrible dream courtesy of the compass. Hugo had been pulling a long con, fooling him the entire time, faking from the onset. Varian had given him a second chance when he never deserved the first one. He tried to summon his Darkness, building a wall as fast as he could shield himself from what was happening. He’d fulfilled his purpose. Hugo had done away with Yong and Nuru. Ruddiger chose a new master. And now he’d be delivered to Donella’s waiting clutches for the final phase of her plan.

Just as the ship blurred, Hugo grabbed a handful of Varian’s hair, pain grounding him to reality. “Nope. No flicking your off switch. Stick around,” he purred into Varian’s ear, giving him the awful kind of shivers. Endless regret flooded him for telling Hugo about his Darkside failsafe.

Varian wasn’t the only one snared in Donella’s plan. Saporians had been on the outskirts of his quest the entire time. The ship Prometheus downed in Ingvarr had carried his rotary cannon. “The Saporian haul.” Varian caught Hugo’s eye. He had a suspicion. “In Neserdnia, your employer was The Separatists.”

A slice of a smile cut Hugo’s mouth. “Did it really take you that long to figure it out? They’ll pay anything to get pieces of their kingdom back.” He peered up again. “Right, big guy?”

Cyrus huffed. “Had to spring you from the Neserdnian stocks to get the goods back. Lucky Don took a liking to your manner of doing things. Soon, this will all be Saporia,” he said with conviction. “Border to border, one nation.”

“The seven kingdoms will never let that happen!” Varian shouted, turning his head. “You have no army, no land, nothing to barter with.”

“Ah, sure we do, Nerd,” Hugo said. “We have Donella. And now, Donella has you.” By his heels, Ruddiger chittered, nudging a quiver of arrows he’d dragged over. Hugo stooped to pick them up.

“She could have had me in Corona,” Varian reasoned. “That’s not the full story. She needed you, too. She needed you… like this.” Donella required that Hugo be invulnerable, and that Varian be the one to make it happen. “And she didn’t even tell you.”

Righting the quiver over his shoulder, Hugo scowled. “Why would she? Hard to find someone who’d agree to a knife in the back.”

“So, this is what you want to do with eternity? Infinite crime and betrayal, turning on everyone you ever meet?”

“The deal was compensation for my efforts. And, given how I’m facing an unprecedented future, every coin helps.” Hugo turned his head, watching Ruddiger go off again. His gaze scanned the perimeter of the ship, avoiding Varian’s glare.

Varian missed the glasses that made him look goofy and vulnerable. Now, he was merciless and driven, the version Donella had conscripted into her employ, the way Hugo saw himself for so long. Worse, he wasn’t just a guy anymore. From now on, there would be no consequence for Hugo’s actions. He knew he couldn’t be harmed. Varian had created an immortal with no regard for human life. He was Dr. Frankenstein and turned Hugo, his creation, loose into the world. The boy he thought he could love would end up alone and mad, like Gothel and Zhan Tiri. Humans weren’t meant to live that long.

Carved out and hollow, Varian knew he headed towards the final chess move in a lengthy match. Donella had haunted his family for generations, weaving her plan, assembling her players so precisely. “This journey isn’t about science,” he said in a leaden tone. “It is about magic.”  

“The kingdoms will be united by the marriage of magic and technology,” Cyrus said. “They’ll owe the future to Saporia and Donella.”

“So you’re gonna tap me for magic like some kind of mystical tree?” Varian spat in disgust.

Cyrus clicked his tongue. “That’s not how magic works. It comes from imbued objects, stones, or crystals. A conjurer merely redirects the flow of power.”

Crystals, like the bright blue ones that kept Koto alive. Demanitus’ machines all used the same gems. Honing devices, like Uncle Ulric had mentioned, that turned wild dreams to reality. Were there more, lost to time?

Ruddiger’s shrill chitter sounded toward the back of the ship. Hugo’s sullen demeanor shifted in a snap to bright-eyed enthusiasm. “Speaking of redirecting…” With practiced grace, he drew his bow horizontally and nocked three arrows, each shaft poking out between his fingers. Their tips were capped with a gold orb unlike any Varian had seen. No telling what was in them. Hugo angled the arrows over Varian’s head, towards Cyrus and the cabin. “This is our stop.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cyrus shouted. He must have yanked on the wheel, as the ship took a sudden lurch to the right.

Too late. Hugo’s arrows were already in motion. Varian flinched as they whistled overhead. A trio of pops and a crackling noise sounded along the deck, like the night Bayangor’s streets filled with sparklers. A chartreuse haze billowed over the ship, punctured by random swirls of yellow sparks that spun in spirals. Varian perked up. These were Yong’s designs. Cyrus and the other Saporians began shouting as the mist swept forward, spilling over the prow.

Hugo went streaking into the fog and cut forward momentum at the helm, just like after the Water Trial, igniting cries and heavy thumps as the Saporians lost their footing. From the bow, gears churned and a deep shudder announced that the grapple arm had been released. An abrasive trickle of salt ran down Varian’s back, dissolving his adhesive bond. He spun, expecting to see a tall blonde. Instead, Nuru grabbed his arm, yanking him toward the front of the ship. She wore the spear she’d brought from Koto. Varian was so relieved he almost screamed, but he stuffed it down and grabbed the compass, tearing it from its mount.

They ran for the bow. Yong was pouring a luminous lavender trail of viscous liquid from the hatch leading to the lower deck to the grapple mount. Varinium. Ruddiger launched himself onto Varian’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck. He understood – Nuru and Yong had gone into the lower deck and stayed there, out of sight. His racoon worked as a go-between while Hugo…

Varian looked behind him.

Out of the mist, Hugo emerged with the staff and the big travel pack Varian brought from Old Corona. He narrowed an eye. “Why are you all gawking? Go!” He shoved the pack at Yong and the staff at Varian. Further back, Cyrus swiped at the fog, clearing just enough to spot them clustered by the grapple. “Now!” Hugo shouted. “Down the line!” He ground the steel heel of his boot into the metal deck, and dragged his foot, throwing a spark that landed on the liquid trail Yong made.

The substance flared to life, sizzling as the point of ignition swept not only towards the hatch, but around the entire perimeter of the ship, just under the railing. It created a crackling barrier around the Saporians, who panicked, having no idea how to stop it. All the rushing around Ruddiger had done – he’d spread the same lavender liquid. With attention on Varian, courtesy of Hugo, the man of the wheel hadn’t noticed the colorful glow. If Hugo was a master at anything, it was misdirection.

The disorienting mist was dissipating. Ruddiger dove into the backpack. Nuru stepped onto the narrow edge of the ship, hooked her spear over the taut line with both arms extended, and stepped off, sliding down the rope at an angle. Yong went next, doing the same with the straps of the pack. Varian climbed onto the railing and swung the staff overhead, taking either side of it. He looked at the dark ground below, uncertainty tickling his stomach. Hugo delivered a kick to his back, and with a startled cry, he slid down. It was over before he knew it, Nuru and Yong helping him up.

Prometheus hovered overhead, tethered by the grapple like a hooked fish. At the prow, Hugo looped his bow around the line and stepped off. Behind him, Cyrus rose like an ocean wave, a burly figure in flight. He snagged Hugo’s long duster, and they both plummeted together. In decent, Cyrus spun, tangling Hugo’s legs in the fabric. Both suffered a hard landing.

As Varian, Nuru, Yong rushed to help, the bottom of Prometheus exploded in a lavender blast. Metal shrapnel rained down, along with balls of purple flame. They adjusted their paths, scattering. Varian recognized some of the wreckage as parts of his rotary cannon and the magnetic motor.

Hugo sprang from underneath Cyrus only to get dragged back by the duster. He rolled and twisted the way a cat would in a bath, slipping from his coat and diving free. Cyrus countered by grabbing him by the ankles instead. Varian debated running across the debris field crackling with lavender flame, but to what end? Hugo couldn’t be harmed. A fact that Hugo clearly registered. He yanked the glowing chemlight from his neck and crushed it in his hand, glass shattering. Bright red liquid dribbled through his fingers. Yelling in pain, he clapped the acid-drenched hand over Cyrus’ face. The big man recoiled and curled into a ball, releasing Hugo, who stumbled away.

Varian’s hand went to his own chemlight, feeling the lump under his shirt. It contained the same substance, just as lethal. The light and the final orb in his staff were the remainders of his arsenal. The group picked their way through the rubble to rejoin clear of the ship, which was listing, counterweights destroyed, suspension balloons keeping it aloft. Sparking lavender flame licked up the hull. “Look guys,” Yong breathed. “It’s beautiful.” Ruddiger poked his head out of the pack, sniffing at the sharp smell of scorched steel.

“I mean, sure,” Varian agreed. “In a macabre kind of way.”

Sucking sharp, pained breaths, Hugo cupped his hand to his chest as it healed. “Lovely,” he said. “Can we leave now?”

Nuru was already heading for the tree line. “Boys sure like to blow things up and get in fights,” she muttered. “This has been a stressful day – scratch that – stressful trip, and I’d like it to be over. So, next?”

“Yeah. Next,” Varian said as the others caught up to her and ducked into the relative safety of the forest. He recognized the variety of trees as the types that bordered Corona. “And last.”

Chapter Text

The woods on the outskirts of Corona were dark and thick with growth, perfect for disappearing into. Varian activated his chemlight as they wove deeper into the trees. Nuru, with her telescope, peered through gaps in the leafy canopy, where shafts of silvery moonlight spilled down. Varian was from a small village, not well-versed on the outskirts of his kingdom, but he trusted Nuru to follow his instruction in bringing them to the highest point on the western ridge of Corona. Yong stuck to her side, trying to win accolades as he prattled on about how his combustibles saved them. Sure, Yong had been integral, but Hugo had been the one to stick his neck out. Again.

“You got me to think you’d being playing me the whole time,” Varian told Hugo, balancing his staff over a shoulder. “You were lying about lying.” Everything he’d said was bombastic and for effect, duplicating his trick from Ingvarr, where he’d made a scene to bide time.

Hugo flashed a smile, teeth glinting in the pale light. “Well, yeah. I’m an exceptional actor. Remember what I said about Playing All Sides? You were gonna head back to the ship eventually, so I set a plan in motion.”

“So, you did spend the night on the ship.”

“I… well…” Hugo blew a heavy sigh, making his bangs drift up. “I needed time. But I guess I’ve got plenty of that.” He moved to take Varian’s hand.

At the barest brush of fingers, a volley of images crashed through Varian’s mind. A smoke bomb following the Fire Trial. Hugo crouched on the deck of Prometheus, the cutlass in his hand, glaring at Varian with fury as mermaids called below. A dozen animated arguments. The crushed dragonfly. Rushing through the opera’s halls. That snide smile from earlier in the evening. You always knew I was a liar.

Varian flinched and whipped his hand away. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can… if I wanna…” He hugged the staff to his chest. “You and me… It’s all been really rough.” He feared he hadn’t seen how terrifying Hugo could be, especially now that he couldn’t be harmed and faced no real consequence for his actions.

Hugo stopped walking, forcing Varian to turn around. A gentle breeze ruffled the treetops, causing pillars of moonlight to wink in and out of existence. “Blue, I… I get it. I conned too hard.” He cursed. “I don’t know how to make this right.”

Guilt still swirled in Varian. “No. This is my fault. I’m the liar. Every day, I made the decision to keep something from you.”

Half of Hugo’s features crinkled, as if he felt torn. He shook his head. “It wasn’t The Elixir that set me off. It’s that you kept it a secret. The rest… well, I’m good at starting over, and used to broken promises.”

Varian set his staff against a tree trunk and glanced behind him. Nuru and Yong had stopped, watching at a distance. Varian waved at them to keep going. Nuru took Yong’s hand and they faded from sight. Facing Hugo, Varian said, “Not from me.”

“No,” Hugo agreed. “Not from you.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “I care more about you than I do about myself. And what’s eternity worth if I can’t have you with me?” With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, blinking fast. “I… get doing the wrong thing. It’s all I ever do and, yeah... I deserve to pay for it. Think I probably will.” Tears welled, gleaming in the corners of his eyes. “I’m nobody and nothing. Somehow, I swindled you into caring about me. And sooner or later, you were gonna realize that was a mistake. So, this – you and me? It was always going to be temporary, and I was always going to be the one that ruined it. I’m sorry.” He shrugged, shoulders moving all the way up to his ears. His smile looked sad and broken. “I’m sorry, Blue. I’m sorry.”

Varian hauled him into a crushing hug. Hugo returned the embrace, squeezing him, and kept on apologizing. No matter how horrific Hugo might become one day, he was hurting now. Varian couldn’t fear the future forever, and he had to accept the person Hugo was now, someone that stood up for Varian time and again, no matter the risk. “I said I’d forgive you,” Varian whispered in his ear, glad to uphold his pledge from the Black Kingdom.

His words pushed Hugo over the edge. With a gasp, he started bawling and buried his head in Varian’s neck, spreading dampness. Varian rocked him side to side in a soothing motion. If he couldn’t hold Hugo forever, he could hold him for now, when they were both warm and solid and present. Maybe he’d have a reckoning as well, and they’d see it though together.

Leaves rustled overhead and a few frogs sang in a nearby stream. When Hugo lifted his head, his brows were tightly knit. “None of this was your fault. It was Donella.”

Varian’s hands smoothed to his waist. “It’s my dumb quest.”

“Your dumb quest brought us together.”

“For better or worse, I guess.”

Hugo grabbed Varian’s face. The soft glow from the chemlight made his green eyes sparkle. “Better,” he insisted. “It’s for the better.” He angled Varian’s head down and pressed lips to his forehead.

For the second time that day, he made Varian shiver, only this was the good kind. “I meant it,” Varian whispered. “On the ship. I want to be with you. Until the end. Until… my end. When I’m a wrinkled mess with bad knees and you’re still beautiful.”

Hugo chuckled, sniffing back the remnants of his tears. “Are you excited?”

“For?”

“All the things we’ll see between now and then.”

Varian took his hand and retrieved the staff, slinging it over a shoulder once again. It was as if a balloon had filled inside of him, making him buoyant, flooding him with a bubbly, soaring sensation. They could fight a million times, and he’d still love Hugo. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m excited.”

The group’s excursion through the backwoods of Corona was annoyingly difficult after the luxury of the ship. Trying to beat the remnants of Donella’s forces, they kept a hard pace, each with their own duties. Nuru, at the forefront, used the sun by day and the stars by night to guide them deeper into the kingdom. Having lost the ship’s stocked galley, Yong and Ruddiger foraged the trail, making meager yet filling meals when they could afford to stop. Hugo watched shadows in the growth, bow in his hand, an arrow loosely nocked, occasionally nudging Varian, who walked with a notebook open, back on track.

Varian flipped through his notes on the final trial. There wasn’t much. Coagulation, he’d written, condensing both his mother’s and Donella’s scant suggestions. A change in form. Hemostasis? Blood?? WHAT IS PRIMA MATERIA??? FIRST WHAT? THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!!! His penmanship squiggled all over the page in frustration. He slammed the book closed and groaned, tossing his head back. The compass rode in his waistcoat pocket, silent and useless. “Okay, okay. This’ll be fine. It’ll be fine,” he muttered, hoping for better clarity once they reached their destination.

“So, uh, as much as I enjoy a decent, ominous forest,” Hugo said, eyes sharp on their surrounds. “Where are you taking us?”

“Well, I mean that’s obvious.”

Yong turned and skipped backward, grinning. “Are we gonna see your home?”

“The city of Corona? Probably. But we’re going to Demanitus’ Tomb first.”

At the lead, Nuru spun to face the others. Yong backed into her, knocking her down. Ruddiger ran around them in an excited circle. “Wait,” she said, eyes widening. “What? Really?”

Varian lifted a shoulder. “I mean, that’s what makes sense. It’s kinda my warehouse. And long before that, it was his. The other Trials have been hidden in important places in each region.” He tucked the notebook under an arm and ticked off on his fingers. “Bayangor, the Temple. Neserdnia, the shoreline of a seafaring country. Koto, the Sundrop-Opal mountain. Ingvarr, the Bridge. Galcrest, the Black Kingdom. Pittsford, Demanitus’ old lecture hall. Trust me, the Tomb is a perfect place to hide a Trial.”

Hugo frowned. “If it’s your warehouse, wouldn’t you have seen an inscription somewhere?”

“Uh, well… about that…” Xavier and his dad helped Varian ship equipment back and forth, but the tall palms, twisting vines and lush interior had been left undisturbed. “You know how you said you hate plants? Brace yourself. The tomb is kinda… overgrown.”

“Who am I, your friendly, neighborhood gardener?” Hugo quipped. Varian reached out to shove him. Hugo grinned and swayed out of the way.

“Hey,” Nuru said. “For a chance to see Demanitus’ personal collection, I can handle a few weeds.”

“What kinda stuff did you keep?” Yong asked, eyes sparkling.

Considering the inventory, Varian said, “Nothing that’s gonna explode… I don’t think… I lied. Rooster four point seven is in there. But don’t touch it!”

“Aw, man…”

Days passed. Out on the road, there was no privacy. Varian and Hugo had to settle for yearning glances, as neither longed to engage in public displays of attention. They started up the mountain to the Tomb, the trail sloping instead of steep. Approaching from the opposite side Varian was used to, it was a longer walk, but easier. The tall ridge kept snow on the other side. In this lee, new, fascinating growth sprung up – scrubby little shoots with unusual flowers, and fat, multicolored mushrooms. Varian wondered if they had medicinal properties. He’d have to take some home for analysis.  

When another dusk fell, they set up a modest camp on a ledge above the tree line. Nuru peered through her telescope at the wealth of deep Corona woodland spread below. Varian lifted his chin. The constellations finally looked familiar again, though shifted with the season. “I think I missed my birthday,” he said. Strange how eighteen and nineteen felt similar, but it seemed decades had passed since he was fourteen.

“Sorry, Varian,” Yong said. He held out a packed disk of dried apples, meat, and tallow. “Celebration pemmican?” Ruddiger sat up on his hind legs and tried to snatch it.

“Squint real hard, Blue,” Hugo said, tossing branches into a meager campfire. “Make believe somebody sat on a cupcake.”

With warmth in his heart, Varian smiled at his little band of travelers. Barring more complications, they’d all be at the palace shortly. Though lacking answers about his mother, he’d gained some good things from this trip, such as an extended family, new friends, and –

“Hugo?” Nuru called from the growing dark. “Come here, will you?”

Hugo clapped his palms clean. “We good?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Check this out.”

He shrugged and headed back down the trail to join her.

With the two of them occupied, Varian signaled to Yong and pointed at the odd shrubbery. “Do these plants seem familiar? Maybe strains your dad kept in his pharmacy?”

“Hmm,” Yong pondered. He knelt down and poked at a few stalks with a stick, careful not to touch the leaves. “Could be. Corona and Bayangor do share a border. Maybe some of this is reishi or nightshade. Plants take on different properties depending on slight variations in climate.”

Impressed, Varian hummed. “Think you might take up the family business after all?”

“Nah,” Yong said, standing. “I was thinking… Hugo thought what happened in Neserdnia was his fault for a long time. That wasn’t fair. I think when I’m older, I want to help people solve problems. Like using math and science to see if an accident is really an accident.”

“You mean a detective? With forensics?”

“Yeah!”

Yong might be the best of them, stalwartly optimistic and cool-headed while the others got caught up in squabbles. Varian squeezed his shoulder. “You’d be great at helping people. You already are.” Yong beamed at the praise, a wide smile bunching up his cheeks.

“Blue?” Hugo came up behind him. His hair was down and swept to one side, leaving his earrings on display. A spill of moonlight made his hair gleam silver and accentuated the angles of his face. Varian froze. Sure, he’d grown to think of Hugo as good-looking, but now he seemed stunning. “Can I show you something?” He looked a little stiff and nervous.

“I, uh, what? Why?” Varian stammered, pounding heart and hormones throwing his whole system off.

Hugo snorted and laughed. “Ease up on the questions for once. Just walk with me, okay?” He grabbed their canteen, along with a handkerchief stuffed with dried fruit and nuts Ruddiger had found, a sign that he didn’t plan on coming back tonight. Ruddiger scampered to follow. “No,” Hugo ordered. “Sit. Stay.” The raccoon whimpered in disappointment. Nuru walked by and winked, leading Yong back to camp.

Varian gulped. Hugo left his bow, but Varian took the staff for light and for the corrosive orb inside. Hugo helped him down a ledge, backtracking their path and heading off at an angle through high, tightly growing brush. After shouldering their way through a thicket, the growth gave way to a hidden glade. The small clearing held a canopy of low-hanging foliage, showing a scatter of stars above. Bushes of night-blooming phosphorescent flowers and clusters of bio-luminescent fungi bathed the glade in soft incandescence. A thick cover of grass felt almost bouncy underfoot.

“Oh, wow,” Varian breathed. “It’s amazing!”

“Yeah… Nuru saw the glow from above and showed it to me.”

Varian wiggled the butt of his staff into the ground, letting it freely stand like a streetlamp in the clearing. Though amicable, Nuru and Hugo weren’t close. “Really? Why would she do that?” Hugo didn’t even like plants.

“So I could show you. Four’s been sort of a crowd.” Varian turned, giving his full attention. Hugo fiddled with his fingers, gaze scanning the grass. “Look, I… I thought the best I was gonna get out of this job was the chance to live large for a couple of months. After that, there was going to be another job. Then another. For the rest of my life. Thought I was never going to be someone worth knowing.” He finally looked up, face serious. “But you’ve removed the constraints of never, Blue. Now it’s all just eventually. I can be anything. We can be anything.” He took a deep breath and let it out hard. “The Black Kingdom was kinda stressful. Do you really want to be with me because of a promise you made after one bad day?”

“No. I want to be with you because I want to be with you.” Though the idea hadn’t come fully to him until after Hugo’s ‘death’, he’d been playing with the notion much earlier, probably since Ingvarr, since the very beginning.

Hugo hummed in thought and folded his arms. He wiggled his heel in the grass. “Would your dad like me?”

Varian burst out laughing. “Another science guy? Probably not. Oh, man, he’d put you through the ringer –”

“Like I haven’t been already.”

“– ask you a bunch of questions –”

“I do have all the answers.”

“– want to know your intentions –”

“To give his son everything I can.” The jovial moment broke a little, tipping back into sincerity. Hugo lowered his arms and looked Varian square in the eyes. “You say you want to be with me and I… I never know how to respond. I feel like I’d let you down. Like you deserve better. But I trust you. I trust that you know what you want. Even if what you want is my dumb self.” His hand drifted out, stroking down a teal streak of hair. “I don’t get a lot of choices in my life. With you… there’s only ever been one option – all in.” He gave Varian a rap on the chin, paired with a dopey smile. “Love you, Nerd. Just wanted you to know.”

“I love you, too,” Varian said, reaching for Hugo’s face. He wanted to cry and scream and cheer all at once. “Have for a while. I just didn’t know when to say it.”

Hugo puts hands on Varian’s waist and dropped his gaze, gulping over and over. He gasped a thick inhale, like fighting tears. It was very probable that no one had ever told Hugo he was loved. When he looked up, his eyes sparkled with bravado, wet in the corners. “Knew that. You liked me since we met.”

Varian snickered. “When you stole from us? I hated you.” He brushed thumbs over Hugo’s cheekbones. “I liked you the second time I saw you.” The charmer from the inn sank a hook into Varian. It had taken time to reel the line in.

Hugo shrugged. “Close enough. Still no diamond, huh?” he added, sounding disappointed.

Varian punched him in the bicep. “Hey, you did get a ring out of this, remember?”

Raising his hand, Hugo regarded the iron ring. “Huh. I guess I did.”

Hope swelled in Varian. “So… yes? You’ll come back with me?”

Rubbing his arm, Hugo grinned. “Yeah, Blue. Yes.”

Varian snatched Hugo up, crushing him close. He now understood how no hardship or problem could ever break Eugene and Rapunzel apart. The thief had become the most important person in his life. They stood up for each other, could fight and make up, and looked forward to the same future of exploration and innovation. And after, long after, Hugo would be okay without him – he was used to his own company, found creative outlets, was capable of introspection, and could pivot to make the best of a bad situation. “I really do love you,” Varian reiterated, squeezing him tighter. “Really.”

Hugo laughed and ruffled his dark hair. “I believe you. Samesies.”

Nuru had given her blessing. No one was going to interrupt them.

Channeling his darker tendencies, Varian twined fingers in Hugo’s loose hair and pulled him in, kissing in a hard and fierce manner. It was all a whirlwind – hands and breath and yanks on clothing. Some buttons were popped in fervor. Varian paused in their flurry long enough to carefully set his green chemlight aside, lest it get broken, spilling the contents. Testing a theory, he sank teeth into Hugo’s neck, leaving bite marks that healed almost instantly. He grazed fingertips over freshly renewed skin just to watch Hugo shudder. In response, Hugo grabbed the hair at the back of Varian’s head, tilting his face up. For a moment, they just stared at each other, pupils wide and black.

Heat soared and, panting, Varian wrestled Hugo to the ground, testing another aspect of their rivalry, seeing what would happen. Hugo allowed the rough handling with a mildly amused expression. Putting a hand on either shoulder, Varian pinned Hugo down. Without breaking eye contact, Hugo slipped arms around Varian’s waist, drawing them closer together.

The hazy bubble of need popped like a burst balloon. Breath caught in Varian’s throat as he realized what was about to happen. Nerves coiled in his gut. “I don’t know how to do this,” he confessed. “I’ve never… with anyone.”

Hugo’s face filled with calm confidence. “I’ll show you.” Slim fingers brush his dark hair aside, palm warm on his cheek. “Heck. We can even experiment if you want to.”

A welcome laugh escaped Varian’s lungs. Tension broken, he lowered himself to Hugo’s side and propped himself up on an arm. He slid a hand up Hugo’s bare throat and over his earrings. He scratched the back of Hugo’s head, looking deeply at him. “I do.” Two words, insurmountable weight. He hoped Hugo understood his wants for the future, his needs, his desire, and only so much time to fulfill any of it.

Hugo blinked in surprise, slowly gathering Varian’s meaning. “I do, too,” he whispered.

They closed their eyes, kissed, and surrendered.

Chapter Text

Next following morning was crisp. Dewy blades bent softly underfoot as Varian and Hugo left the glade. Once they picked their way back up the ridge, Yong stepped onto the trail and waved his arm. He and Nuru had made a lean-to of thatched branches. “How did it go?” he shouted.

Losing focus on his footing, Varian tripped before righting himself. “Wh-what do you m-mean?” he stammered, knuckles going white where he gripped his staff.

“Nuru said you and Hugo had to run an experiment all night,” Yong said. Sitting on a section of rotting log, Nuru sipped her morning tea, fancy skirt piled in her lap, giving Varian an even glance over the rim of her cup. Beside her, Ruddiger plucked a berry from a twig and chewed it thoroughly, mimicking her glare.

Varian’s face burned when Hugo threw an arm around his shoulders. “I’d say it was pretty successful,” Hugo quipped, his light tone slightly smug.

“I have to… do things,” Varian said, twisting out of Hugo’s reach. He hiked up the sloping ridge as the others broke their meager camp. In a recess of his heart, he stored memories of the previous night for later, focusing on the task at hand. He mulled the concept of Light. Literal or Metaphor? Light on your feet? Light at the end of a tunnel? What purpose did light serve on its own? A guiding light? Light up a room?

He stopped and stared out over the depths of Corona’s woodlands. Donella and Hugo were right. He had too many questions.

“You holding up okay?” Nuru asked, her touch gentle on his arm. Behind her, small pops of glacial blue danced in the air as Hugo showed Yong how to freeze-dry food for the road using his ice orbs. It had been a long trek, and the opulent luxury of his own quarters in the palace seemed like something he’d imagined.

“I think I’m ready to be done.” He squeezed her hand. “Nuru… thanks. I know you’re not Hugo’s biggest fan, but we did need some time alone.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “If there’s no keeping the two of you apart, least I can do is support it. But he better be good to you.”

“He is. And he will be.”

“What, are we all part of the scenery now?” Hugo said, nudging his way between them, propelling them forward. Ruddiger sat on his shoulder, gnawing on a walnut. “There’s a castle in my future, so let’s ransack the old dude’s garage and wrap this up.” Yong hustled behind him, the pack over his shoulders.

Nuru’s mouth pulled to one side in a grimace. “Yeah, yeah,” Varian muttered. “I know what I signed up for.”

Once the group crested the ridge, the area began to look more familiar to Varian, and he led the way. Thankfully, they were several months ahead of the snowy season, placing the towering tomb in clear view, standing like a fortress in the sunshine. As they approached, the others stared, awed by the hundred-foot wall of intricately carved travertine and blocks of limestone. A proud smile slid across Varian’s face. “Step aside, if you will. I’ve got this.” He paused at the entry riddle and pawed at his clothes. He was without a torch. “Um. I don’t got this.” He tapped a finger against the plaque. “A need a point of flame right here.” Nuru stepped up beside him and inverted her telescope, funneling the sun’s rays through its lens. “What would I do without you?” he said in admiration.

“Suffer terribly, I assume,” she answered. A ghostly thread of smoky vapor crawled over the wording before igniting the entry’s trigger.

“This never gets old…” Varian uttered. Tawny flame swirled through the carvings, weaving their way up the wall. The entire structure took up an ethereal burning blaze, the mystical dancing through earthy stone. Monumental gears sprung out to raise the stone door with a gentle grind. Watching the tomb reveal itself put Varian at ease, sliding tension from his shoulders. This wonder was predictable, and his. By luck or by providence, he’d inherited Demanitus’ legacy. I did it, he said, either to his mother or to Demanitus himself. I made it home. Ruddiger hopped onto his shoulder and nuzzled his neck.

“Well, ten points for showmanship,” Hugo said when the experience ended. He gave the wall an experimental rap with his bare knuckles.

“That was the coolest thing I ever saw in my whole life,” Yong murmured, hands cupping his head, tears sparkling in his eyes.

Nuru said nothing. Varian turned to her. The telescope held her attention. “This isn’t mine,” she whispered, and held it out with both hands. “You’re the one that deserves this, Varian. You have a closer connection to Demanitus than anyone.”

He closed a hand over the offering and pushed it away. “Naw. It’s not like the guy had any say in it. Just, ya’know, happened to be from the same kingdom, that’s all. Besides, we came all this way, did all this, together. His teachings belong to all seven kingdoms. And it’s our duty, as scholars and explorers, to share his knowledge with everyone.”

Nuru gave a proud smile and hugged the telescope to her chest. Hugo squeezed his shoulder and grinned. “That’s big of you, Blue.” Residual radiance from the wall made his iron ring and the chains on his vest gleam golden.

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“Hmm.” Hugo tapped his lip. “Right thing… right thing… I’ll have to get a hang of that.”

“I believe in you.”

At that, Hugo’s face warmed. Then his eyes darted side to side. “Where’s Yong?”

A distant, “Whoo!” sounded from within the tomb. “Ah, nuts,” Varian grumbled, “Yong!” He, Nuru, and Hugo dashed through the tomb’s short foyer, Ruddiger chasing at their heels.

They burst into the tomb’s lush center packed with tropical palms, vines, and ferns rife with healthy growth. Sunlight streamed down through the exposed ceiling. Tarnished copper, rust-streaked cogs and smooth stone made up the interior walls. The resident troop of monkeys had long since vacated, disrupted by the continual comings and goings of Varian and his assistants. Relics of Demanitus’ ancient designs littered the floor in hulking wonders of rotting wood and corroded metal, slowly succumbing to the ravages of time. Many were capped with blue gems – like those seen in Koto – that fit in the palm of a hand, their once brilliant azure glow diminished a flat navy. Remnants of the trans-dimensional portal looked like the round, wooden mouth of some undersea creature studded with riveted belts in lieu of teeth. Without the crystals as a power source, all he had were the memories of how Demanitus’ devices had operated. The mind-switch-machine angled downward, as if slumping from fatigue. Obscured forms sat behind the trees. From earlier visits, Varian knew they were of a spinning wheel, a crystal capped onto its long spindle, and pieces of a treadwheel crane that must have been used to build the tomb itself.

Varian’s more modest creations were draped with fabric covers, making them look like blocky ghosts. Among them were a telegraph whose usefulness proved minimal without long-range electrical signals to traverse the wires, an automatic butler that gave Eugene the creeps so badly that he insisted Varian dispose of it, stacks of shredded rubber wheels, racks of expired potions and powders comprising everything from antibiotics to hair dye, buckets of flash bulbs, refrigeration units with a penchant for combusting, and a town square thermometer that sparked such volatile arguments over degrees versus Celsius that Varian carted it off in disgust.

Yong poked about between the items, hands primly clasped behind his back, the tip of his tongue sticking out in study. He moved carefully, to not bump the massive pack against the tomb’s exhibits. “Look at it all! It’s –”

“Crumbling,” Nuru noted, taking in the chamber. “It’s the plants. They –”

“They’re causin’ moisture damage and rust,” said Hugo, setting his bow down. “Ruining things like they always do,” he complained, his hatred of plants still strong.

“It was one of Demanitus’ last acts to create an oasis in here for his monkeys,” said Varian. “I couldn’t just rip it out. And it’s… look… it’s not like anything in here works anymore.”

“Then why ya keeping it?” Yong asked.

Varian lifted a shoulder, a bashful smile finding its way to his face. “Well, ‘cause it’s a cool place to hang out,” he said honestly. “It’s inspiring to think of everything Demanitus accomplished in his lifetime and humbling to know that I’ll never even get close. Plus, it’s great for storage.” Even though the crystals were tapped out, a sense of wonder still permeated the tomb, a prickling of the skin, like looking through time at what had been and what could be.

Apparently let down by the tomb’s assets, Nuru and Hugo began a debate as to which was more impressive – Koto’s archive or the Clockwork City as a whole. It wasn’t quite an argument, and their chatter dissolved into white noise as Varian considered the tomb. He slipped the pack from Yong’s shoulders and rifled through the inside. Lifting Demanitus’ tome, he placed it back on the stand where it had come from. He smoothed hands over the pedestal, imagining when the Lord stood in this chamber, leaving his findings for the future or for the sands of time. Varian’s fingertips skipped over grooves in the stone. He blew a cloud of dust loose and, making a fist, rubbed a layer of grime free with his fingerless glove. Beneath era-packed dirt lay a symbol that made him gasp. It was the same looping periodic knot that covered his mother’s journal. Using a nail, he scratched at the emblem until the mark became clear. There was a divot right in the middle of the mess of lines, just big enough that it could house –

Varian tore across the tomb, grabbing onto one of the faded crystals poking out from the mind-switch-machine. He twisted it free and rushed back to the podium. “C’mon, c’mon! Do what you’re meant to,” he urged the crystal as he jiggled it into the crevice.

“Blue, you good?” Hugo asked. The others hurried over, their brows knit in confusion.

Every single crack and line of carved etching within the tomb lit up bright blue, making the trees look neon green and giving the stonework a wash of sapphire. Within seconds, the color flickered and went dark.

“Does it usually do that?” Hugo asked, staring up at the palm fronds. “Cause if ‘yes’, I’m totally rescinding judgement.”

“Shoot… shoot,” Varian grumbled, wiggling the crystal. “I need another.”

The group split, prying muted crystals from the wreckage of various designs and handing them to Varian. Over and over, the chamber lit up and faded, but none of the gems held enough power to sustain the effect. An exasperated groan left Varian’s throat. “It’s no use. These crystals have nothing left to give.” He tugged at his hair. “Argh! We’re so close!”

“How many would you need?” Nuru asked.

“Feasibly, one. We’ve reached the end of this. Least that’s what I hope. Not that any of it matters. Crystals are scarce, and I’ve used all the ones we have. Koto and New Saporia claimed the rest.”

Nuru hugged her telescope. “Well… yes.” She released her grip and let the telescope slide down. Taking hold of the lens and the tube, she twisted hard. The pieces came apart, and she shook one side. An azure gem fell into her palm, dazzling with intensity. Everyone leaned in, the gem’s glow reflecting in their eyes. Even Ruddiger hopped onto Hugo’s shoulder for a better look.

“Well, well, well,” Hugo cooed, smirking. “So, that’s why you were on the lam from your kingdom. And here I thought you were fueled with noble intent. Turns out it was just larceny.” Ruddiger chattered in his ear in reprimand.

Nuru's fingers closed over the gem, fear and uncertainty on her face. “I didn’t know what to expect once I left Koto. I never knew when I’d have to barter with it.” Hardening her resolve, she handed it to Varian. “Or gift it. Consider it a down payment on Corona helping Koto uproot Star Bloom Mountain.”

“Oh, Nuru…” Varian stared at the wonder in his hand, at the sheer power it could provide. “I was gonna do that regardless. But thank you.” He fit the gem into the looping symbol and sank it into place.

This time, the wash of light held true. The effect was like looking directly into a lamp. An intense glow spilled over so many objects and crevasses that any pattern seemed difficult to find. Everyone squinted, trying to discern wording hidden in the glare. “Wait…” Varian pulled his goggles on. That dulled the effect. He started at the floor, scanning the center first, then sweeping out. Turning in a full circle, his gaze crawled up the walls, past the mesh of vines, up to the palm trees, and out the middle of the tomb’s open ceiling. He bit his lip. It was here, he knew it.

A breeze wafted over the tomb, its walls so high the tallest palm fronds barely waggled. But they did move. A rush swept through Varian. “It’s here! The final inscription! It’s obscured behind the trees!”

“See? Plants suck.” Hugo affirmed. “An acid could eat straight through the bark. Melt it, simple and clean.”

Varian glared through his googles. “We’re not destroying Demanitus’ grove.”

“How else do we get a clear view of the inscription?”

An idea sprang to mind, and Varian retrieved his notebook. “Ruddiger! Go up the trees. I’ll tell you which fronds to bend.” The racoon skittered up a palm trunk and through the fronds to yank them down, revealing brief glimpses of wording. There was an awful lot of ‘to the left, no, my left’, ‘next tree, no, not that one,’ and ‘up one more, no, one more, one more, Ruddiger’ until Varian had jotted the full inscription down. Ruddiger dropped to the ground, huffing with exhaustion as Varian pulled the crystal out and handed it back to Nuru. The tomb went back to normal, and everyone crowded in. Varian pushed his goggles back and held the notebook out for review.

Use What was Lost and Gained to Go Where None Have Before

Only the First Traveler can Open the Gate with the Iron Door

“That’s it?” Nuru asked with a grimace.

“That’s it,” Varian said. They all frowned, tilting their heads, thinking. “Okay. So, first thing first. Lost and gained. Theories?”

“Duh,” Nuru and Yong said in unison, jabbing their thumbs at Hugo, who dandily placed a hand over his chest.

“My,” Hugo said with a wide grin, as if a temporary death was no big deal. “Don’t I feel special.”

Varian smirked in return. “Where None Have Gone. The Library. It must be. Now… huh. First traveler. Traveler of what? The quest? Surely, that would have been Demanitus himself, laying the groundwork. But there’s no way he can participate in this now. The first person to get this far?”

“Well, that’s us!” Yong exclaimed.

Nuru pursed her lips. “Seems like the inscription refers to two people specifically. Whoever came back from the Black Kingdom –”

“Heeey,” Hugo reminded, gaudily waving.

“– and the Traveler. The first person who set out to do this.”

Varian paled as his heart sank. “Guys… we can’t finish this.”

Nuru shook her head in a double take. “What? Why?”

“I’m not the first traveler. My mom was.”

Yong looked crestfallen. “So… that’s it then?”

The wind out of Varian’s sails, he listlessly shrugged. “I… I guess.”

Hugo sliced his arms in an X pattern. “Bogus. No way this is a dead end.” It was odd to hear him as the voice of optimism. “So, we’re down one mom. You’re smart, Blue, but you overlook minor details when looking at the big picture.”

“Such as?”

“Coagulation. The Seventh Stage of Alchemy.”

The tomb went into soft focus as Varian contemplated Hugo’s reminder. Coagulation. Fluid to solid. Change. Growth. A bridge of particles. Essential parts, his mother had written. Red. “It’s about blood.” He stared down at his hands, at the bare fingers his short gloves revealed. Ulla started this quest. Dead or not, she was tied to it. And, by linage, so was Varian. His gaze lifted to the spinning wheel veiled behind the trees. “I’m in the wrong story,” he muttered.

“What was that?” asked Nuru.

“Nothing,” he said, walking forward. “We need that wheel.” They hauled it through the palms to the cleared center. Dusting his palms, Varian said, “Okay, now for the weird part. The Gate and the Iron Door. Well, I mean, we’ve got the Gate, but I don’t know anything about a Door in here.” Hugo blinked, cupping his left hand over his right.

“A Gate?” Yong asked. “What do you mean? Where?”

“Right over there,” Varian said, gesturing to the pile of wreckage that had been the trans-dimensional portal.

Nuru crossed her arms. “Honey, I think you’re selling us a tall bill.”

“Look, it’s not… well, it’s not in great shape. But I can repair it! Heck, with all four of us, it’ll be a snap!” They could use Nuru’s crystal to route a base energy level. It wouldn’t be enough to sustain a passage, but it could get them started. He tapped his chin. “Now… the Door…”

“I’ve got it,” Hugo said, still looking at his hands.

“You figured it out?” Nuru asked.

“No. I have it.” He raised his right fist, displaying the dull iron ring Varian gave him in the opera house.

This entire journey had been meant for two people – someone who died, and someone who saved them. Varian took Hugo’s hand and ran a thumb over the iron ring. “Glad you drew the short straw to follow me.”

Hugo squeezed Varian’s opposite arm. He held a softness in his eyes. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Okay, okay. We get it,” Nuru said, making her way towards the ruined portal. “Now, show us how to get this thing up and kicking.”

They dragged equipment into the center of the tomb, daylight shining down on them. As Varian never forgot a design, it was easy enough to dictate repairs to the trans-dimensional portal. The result wasn’t pretty – held together with wads of adhesive compounds instead of welding – but it held form, the center empty and dark. “Essential parts,” Varian muttered. “Black. Red. Yellow. White.” He backed up, reviewing the chamber. Unlike the Dark Kingdom, the tomb didn’t have a summoning circle. “Yong, do you have your powders on you?”

Yong patted the pockets on his mustard-colored breeches, pulling out to small pouches. “I mean, not a lot. Most was on the ship. How much do to you need?”

“Enough to form a circle around the portal.”

“On it,” Yong said, sprinkling a black ring around the tomb’s floor.

Varian peered at his hands, daylight warming them. Red, okay. He looked up at the golden Corona sun visible through the top of the tomb. “Yellow.” He turned his head. The portal and spinning wheel sat in direct sunlight. “Set. White.” He craned his head this way and that. “Uh… What could represent white?”

Hugo and Nuru lifted their hands. “Perhaps it will become evident as we go?” Nuru suggested as Yong joined them.

“Heck of a gamble,” Hugo folding his arms. He drummed his fingers against his biceps. Ruddiger crawled up his back to sit on his head. Hugo scowled upwards, but scratched the raccoon’s rump.

Varian’s face scrunched. The iron ring was silvery, not white. But it was the key to opening the portal. So… “Nuru,” he held his hand out. “The crystal?”

She handed it back. “Here goes?”

“Here goes.” Varian replaced one of the portal’s dim crystals with the fresh one. A chain reaction washed through the device, an aura of blue leaping like a firefly from one crystal to the next. They lightened significantly, even without returning to full power.

Both Varian and Hugo approached the spinning wheel. Varian twisted the dead crystal off the spindle, revealing its sharp point. He gave Hugo a concerned glance. Hugo shook Ruddiger off, winked and said, “You go first. Worst-case scenario, I’ll kiss you awake.”

Blushing, Varian grumbled, “How chivalrous,” and tapped his finger against the point. The prick was sharp but minor, and it set the wheel in motion. It turned all on its own and kept up with the gradual pace, as if waiting. “Next,” he said, tilted his head at the spindle.

Hugo shoved his sleeves higher and lifted his right pointer, the same finger the iron ring sat upon. The instant he touched the spindle, the tomb flared in blinding white light. “Yup!” Hugo yelled as everyone flinched, shielding their eyes. “Found that white.”

The glare subsided as the wheel spun, weaving a tapestry of black, red, yellow, and white. The patterns warped and quivered, becoming three-dimensional, slipping down the wheel to splash the ground, obliterating their designs. A huge rune glowed into existence within the ring Yong formed. With its circle and waving lines, the rune looks like a sunburst, fitting for Corona, only Varian knew it wasn’t. Was this a reference to the Philosopher’s Stone? How could it not be? They stood in the equivalence of an alchemic temple. He narrowed his eyes, then looked at Hugo. “That’s the symbol for gold.”

“Yeah,” said Hugo, looking equally intrigued. A thin veil of white clung to him like vapor. Hugo’s gaze shot down to the ring on his hand. It gleamed white, pulsing to the beat of his heart. A chime sounded, like tracing a finger around the rim of a glass. A vibrational propagation. “Uh…” he started, worriedly. A rush of wind swept through the tomb.

“It’s the door!” Varian shouted. “Hugo! Hit the lever!”

Hugo raced to the reconstructed portal, arm stretching out. His hand closed around the control lever and shoved it forward. Light funneled from him and the ring in a twisting spout that poured directly into the center of the empty gateway. Light pooled vertically, filling the portal. The wind ceased, and the light dimmed. The center of the portal shimmered like the surface of water, reflecting sunlight in ripples and waves. Hugo panted, out of breath. “Well, good news. I didn’t explode. I mean, were that the case, I guess I could get better, but I’d rather not have the experience.”

Varian moved forward, entranced. Beyond that glimmering door lay the fabled Eternal Library. The Black Kingdom had been bleak and poached of color, the Lost Realm too vibrant and chaotic. This would be the third of Demanitus’ lands he’d seen. He squeezed the compass through his waistcoat pocket. “Magic,” Varian whispered. “Magic is in threes.” He raised his hand, fingers wavering before the liquid-like portal. The intoxicating spirit of adventure and discovery drew him like an atom experiencing fusion. Turning his head, he asked, “Do you wanna know how this ends?” He extended his free hand behind him. “I do.”

Ruddiger hopped onto Hugo’s shoulder and drove one tiny fist into the flat of the other paw. He was in. Hugo took Varian’s hand and offered his other to Nuru. She took Yong’s. Varian stepped through the portal, towing the others through what felt like a slightly sticky and cold passage. On the opposite side, they arranged themselves in a line, gawking.

 “Huh,” Varian grunted.

Chapter Text

Two millennia of neglect had taken its toll on the mystical zone. Perpetual dusk hung overhead, a deep indigo horizon with cloudy, flame orange skies. A field of lifeless, dry, brown grass crunched underfoot. Behind them, the open portal shimmered, a vertical disk hovering just above ground level. Plopped into the center of that dismal land sat a medium-sized building of stone and brick and concrete pillars. Crumbling staircases, once grand, ran up both sides. They were missing chunks of stone and caused Varian and his crew to hop from step to step, minding their weight lest they hit a weak spot and stumble. At the head of the stairs, a tarnished clockface had no hands but bore the text, The Library of Eternal Knowledge. Ruddiger sat up on his hind legs, squinting as trying to decipher the wording. The group looked at each other with nervous anticipation.

Bowl scones stuck out from the walls, but none were lit. Varian pulled out his chemlight and shook it. The group stepped through an archway and into the Library’s main atrium, a spacious room where a few bricks had tumbled down. Rectangles of daylight dotted the ground, and the group moved through those tight shafts of light to reach the opposite side. They all stuck to Varian, only able to see a few feet ahead, behind, and side to side. The wooden floor had dried and rotted, creaking underfoot. A hallway featured ornate pillars that swept into sight before being left behind as the team moved deeper inward. There were no shelves and no books.

“This blows,” Yong muttered. “Where’s the Librarian?”

“What do you mean?” asked Nuru.

“You know – the person in charge here.”

“There’s no Librarian,” Hugo chastised. “Don’t be dim.”

Varian pondered if there might be, his gaze raking the shadows. Could his mother be the Librarian, giving a noble reason for her abandonment? Did the safekeeping of all knowledge outweigh her duty as a parent?

More questions.

They reached a set of intimidating, carved double doors. Varian swept his chemlight over them and found seams in the woodwork, revealing a smaller arched door set into the large pair. He placed his hand against the secondary door. “Please,” he whispered. “Please let this be it.”

The lesser door flared brightly, then disappeared entirely. Scents wafted through the doorway – the smell of books, musty and comforting, of leather binding and the vanilla odor of paper breaking down. Varian reached back, found Hugo’s hand and squeezed it. He walked through and held his chemlight high. A dozen long, low rows of shelving housed books. Though the rows ran deep into the structure, they weren’t very tall, and Varian’s intuition tingled. If this place housed all knowledge, shouldn’t there be more books? More than he could ever read? Something was off.

“Books!” Yong cried, rushing to the nearest row. Each shelf was crammed with books of all lengths and widths.

Nuru nudged Varian in the side. “We made it,” she said, grinning. “And Koto was proud of our archive. Wait ‘til they get a load of this, eh?”

Hugo squeezed Varian’s hand back. “See? Everything worked out in the end. Lucky you had me.”

“Heh. That’s me, lucky.” It all felt surreal, like a dream he was bound to wake from, finding himself back on Prometheus, or in his chamber at the palace. He released Hugo’s hand, let the chemlight fall over his chest, and joined Yong by the shelves. He selected a book and tipped it free with his index finger. There was no title on the spine. Everyone held their breath as he opened the book down the center.

Yong cocked his head. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

Varian leafed page by page in a flurry. “Wait… what is this?” Each sheet was empty. “There’s nothing in it!”

Hugo pulled a book from a different shelf and looked inside. “This one’s a dud, too.” All four darted as far as the light allowed, grabbing up books and comparing them. Every single page was blank. Hugo tossed a book over his shoulder, and it thumped to the floor. “More like the Library of Eternal Disappointment,” he commented in disgust. Nuru kept searching, trying book after book, undaunted even in the face of futility.

A wave of defeat rolled over Varian. He and Hugo slumped back-to-back to the ground. “I don’t understand,” said Varian. Ruddiger crawled into his lap, offering comfort. Varian wove fingers through his fur. “After all we went through… Maybe Demanitus didn’t finish the Library?”

“You see books, right?” said Hugo. “He finished it. All that brainpower and he still found room for a sense of humor.” 

“That can’t be it,” Nuru argued from the next row. “Demanitus dealt in puzzles, not pranks.”

Yong picked up the book Hugo dropped and reexamined it, frowning with his tongue poked out, concentrating. A sound filled the air like a dozen quills scratching on parchment at once. The book’s cover and spine warped into different colors and materials. “This one’s got something!” Yong turned it to face the others. The pages were filled with colorful drawings and bold font, like a children’s book.

Hope filled Varian’s chest. “What did you do?”

“I thought about a book I saw when I was little, and here it is!”

Varian leapt to his feet so quickly that Ruddiger jumped straight up and Hugo fell backwards. He pulled another book from the shelf and flipped through it, drawing up a memory. The scratching sound happened again, and the pages became one of his old alchemy books, complete with his own notes scrawled in the margins. “This book… this was mine!” He held it up, pointing. “These are my equations!”

Hugo lounged on the floor, head in his hand, “So, it just shows you things you’ve already read? Can’t say that’s useful.”

Nuru rejoined, taking the book from Varian’s hands and studying it. “Let’s test that. How about something I don’t know?” The ink faded away, leaving white pages. The scratching sound returned as the pages filled. Varian recognized Lord Demanitus’ crest on the cover. “It works!” She whipped her head up. “I just thought about what I wanted to see. And here it is!”

Hugo hopped up and took Yong’s book. Rapid fire, he made the book rotate through a series of works – cookbooks, practical guides, fiction, catalogs, and newspapers. “The books in the Eternal Library are conduits to anything already written!” He shoved it at Varian to see.

Varian took the book back. He thought about the family he’d left in Ingvarr. The pages cleared and became the blocky-fonted note his cousin Wells made about organic conduction. He ran his fingers fondly over the text.

Out in the hallway, floorboards creaked, the sound amplified in the airy Library. “What was that?” Yong asked. Nuru didn’t look up from her book, studying the text with rapt attention.

Varian, his name echoed, overlapping, the word shrill. Close. Too close.

A chill ran through him, and he almost dropped the book. He hadn’t heard his mother since the dream aboard Prometheus. Reality warped, the cavernous depths of the Library calling to him. That darkness whispered warnings he couldn’t decipher. He could almost feel fingers on his sleeve. His eyes rounded, straining to catch something.

Nuru gasped. “Varian! Hugo!” Her voice had a resonance, like she was yelling down a tunnel. “Prima Materia! Look! It’s–”

“Blue?” Hugo’s single word was soft and loaded with concern, sparking an emotional pull that nearly punctured Varian’s bubble of soft focus.

Purpose swept through him. The Library never mattered. Neither had dallying with Demanitus’ old quests. He had already wasted so much time. His whole life, in fact. His mother mattered. Her legacy, her intentions. He’d thought he’d known himself, only to be wrong when suddenly alone and vicious, turning on his friends. Wrong again when his father had come clean about the Brotherhood. Was he wrong a third time in chasing the ghost of his mother?

Magic works in threes, love, the voice reminded. Remember. Magic in, not –

“Mom?” he shouted, whirling. He owed her something, a vow he couldn’t quite recall. The madness of the compass cracked over him like a thunderclap. It seeped through his skin and into his soul. He passed the book to Hugo. “I… have to go.” He raced off, chemlight bouncing over his chest, leaving the others in the dark.

“Varian!” they all called in alarm.

He met the set of doors and swept through them. A mysterious figure moved down the hall ahead, passing from one shadow to the next, carrying a magenta light. Though he couldn’t make out a face, Varian swore he saw flowing red hair. Rushing past mold-ridden tapestries and over cracked stonework tiles, he chased the light.

Close, the voice whispered.

Close.

Close.

He burst into the Library’s grand atrium. Holes in the arching dome above allowed for the interior to be lit with twilight hues. A woman stood in the center of the room.

“Mom!” Varian shouted in elation, skidding to a halt.

Too close! the voice screamed.

The magenta chemlight was put away and its reflection on the figure’s hair shifted from ruby to flat gray. “Ah, so you made it,” said Donella. “Welcome to the finale.”

Chapter Text

Donella scowled as Cyrus sprinted through the entrance to join her. His face bore the impression of a blotchy red handprint centered over a milk-white eye. “Is it secured?” Donella asked without turning.

“Safe in Demanitus’ Tomb when you need it.”

“Perfect.”

The obliteration of hope crashed down hard inside of Varian. Driven by pursuit, he’d gotten sloppy, losing his smarts and intuition in favor of the idealistic notion of fulfilling a legacy. “I… you…” he stammered. “You never needed to chase me. You knew where I was going before I did.” Donella had been right at his mother’s side. They’d uncovered the Trials together, even done most of them together. The only rouge variable in this entire quest had been Varian himself. He regretted leaving his team behind to flounder in the dark.

“Let’s end this together in a civilized manner then.” She extended her hand. “Give me the compass, boy.” Cyrus was edging around the atrium, moving to block the passage into the Library.

“Wh-where’s my mother?”

“Give it to me and I’ll show you.”

Without recourse, Varian handed it over. Donella grasped the compass’s box and base, twisting them in a series of clinking turns. She set it down in the center of the room. With clockwork ticks akin to a music box, the edges unfolded like a blooming flower, panels going flat against the ground. Its interior held a blue-green Saporian crystal. A lock of hair was wrapped around it, pinned by the thinnest of leather straps. The hair was his own shade of brown.

A sphere of light flickered into existence above it, a miniature sun the size of sports ball. It rose to shoulder height and hovered, burning bright enough to sting the eyes. A mesh of black tendrils encircled it like spiderwebbing. Donella walked a circle around it, expression soft and wistful. “Hello, old friend.”

A vise squeezed the air from Varian’s lungs. He’d always known, in his heart and his soul, that his mother was dead. Whenever remained existed as an afterimage, the faintest impression of her voice or flicker of memory, luring him along this quest like the sirens had in Neserdnia. “She was never here. Everything was a trap.”

Donella stood transfixed by the sphere. A gentle smile looking wrong on her drawn face. “Everything I’ve done has been for my dearest friend. To finish what we started. To let her brilliance could set the world alight.”

“Varian!” Nuru’s voice shouted from the dark passage. “Prima Materia! Varian, it’s energy! Universe creating energy!”

He spun around, extending his hand. “Wait!”

The others swept forward from the passage, each holding small sparkers from Yong’s collection in front of them like lamps, tiny sparks withering to ashes long before landing on the ground. Nuru, a book under her arm, came through first, Yong hot behind her. Cyrus grabbed both by the backs of their clothes as Hugo and Ruddiger skirted to either side. “Whoa!” Hugo said, skipping out of arm’s length. “Put a bag over your head. You’re gonna scare villagers with a mug like that.”

“Congratulations, Varian,” said Donella. “You managed what I couldn’t. You saved your partner.”

Varian’s attention swung back to her. “That’s what you wanted from me? To drag Hugo through this? You could have done that yourself. Why torment me?”

“This isn’t about you. Everything I’ve done has been in service of reaching her.”

“Cool story,” Hugo interrupted. He pointed at the orb of light encased in threads of black. “But who called down the freaky-looking sun?”

“Energy,” Varian repeated, looking at Nuru. She and Yong thrashed in Cyrus’ clutches, twisting this way and that as they dangled. The big Saporian hopped, avoiding Ruddiger, who tried to bite his ankles.

Donella strode to them and plucked the book from Nuru’s hands. “Yes, yes,” Donella said, flipping through pages. “Energy. Magic. Creation. It’s all the same, really. They all help achieve something else.”

“Why’d you wait to approach Varian now?” Nuru asked, crossing her now empty arms, suspended by the back of her bodice. “It’s been years and years.”

“Ever play chess, girl? It takes patience to move all the pieces just right.”

Staring at that tiny bit of hair attached to the gem, Varian twined a fistful of his teal streak in his fingers. “You needed me. And you needed me grown, able, and desperate.”

“Desperation is a grand motivator.” Donella shut the book, grinning with pride. “Ulla was right. The books show you everything.” She smirked at Cyrus. “One per kingdom. Our teachings could reach every single person. A world united.”

“The New Saporia you promised,” Cyrus remarked. Nuru swung her foot, connecting with his knee. He bellowed and dropped them. For an instant, Nuru, Yong, and Ruddiger were free. Donella whirled, sending what looked like a glass marble rolling across the floor. A deafening crack thundered, and stone wove up their legs, securing them to the ground. Cyrus leapt back before he was trapped as well.

“Wow, you’re handing out the world now, are you?” Hugo asked, narrowing an eye. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a catch. Oh, wait. I do know better. After all I’ve been through, I get the difference between magic and science. Magic always has a cost. Some bargains can’t be undone.”

“It’s a cost I can afford,” she retorted. Facing Varian, she said, “He’s a lost cause, Varian, my apologies. I should have chosen better.” The words landed like a punch to his gut. “Now, you’re an altruistic individual. I’ve done my research. Power – limitless energy – reaching across the globe. And with the boost of magic, the effects could be instantaneous. No resources. No construction. Just –” she snapped her fingers “and it’s done. You understand the benefit, don’t you? The kind of world we could fashion?”

He did. The call of that type of future played out in his dreams and nightmares. A planet covered in wire and steel, of endless lights and machinery. Towering cities sprawled, choking forests, and spilling into oceans. Smokestacks churned at all hours, blotting out the stars and moon. An automated reality where people didn’t work. They couldn’t. Why risk human error when robotic efficiency was key? Everything was perfect and terrible, and nothing had meaning. Humanity would wither. “I… I don’t think we want the same worlds. Almost anything would be possible, sure. But… you’d take the joy of discovery away. The point of science isn’t always the outcome – it’s about the wonder and collaboration of building. What you’re proposing could get out of hand way too fast.”

Donella’s mouth turned down. “Your mother would be terribly disappointed in your inefficiency.”  

Her words sank barbs into Varian’s heart. For a moment, it was hard to breathe. The atrium slipped in and out of focus. Darkness clouded his periphery, begging to seal him away from the hurt. A hand found Varian’s wrist, giving him a start. His vision cleared to find Hugo as his side. He wanted to collapse into his arms, begging that this be over, and they could go home.

“Wow. That was mean,” Yong said as Ruddiger growled in defense, trying to pull his paws free of the stone.

Hugo launched to Varian’s defense. “So you and the fireball have at it,” he said, jamming a thumb at the glowing sphere. “We’re splitting ways.” Tugging at Varian’s hand, he said, “C’mon, Blue.” He narrowed his eyes at Cyrus. “Drop ‘em.”

A cunning smile curved Donella’s lips. “Oh, we’re not quite done here.”

“Yes, we are.” Hugo shook his fist with the iron ring at her. “I’ll bust open any realm I need to with this dumb rock.”

Donella’s smile grew. The skin around her eyes crinkled in delight. “Oh, you’re the one that has it. Delightful. Use that grey matter, Hugo. When is a rock not a rock?”

The answer to her riddle hit Varian first. “Hugo -”

“When… when it’s a stone.” He relaxed his fist and inspected his hand. “Thee Stone.”

“The Philosopher’s Stone,” Varian breathed. The Stone held the unrivaled magic of transmutation, used to create or attain anything. It was the most sought goal in alchemy, thought to be a myth, a legend, an unattainable goal to spend lifetimes striving for. And he’d simply given it to Hugo, who’d had no problem wielding it to open the gateway. Hugo now held a honing device. He could use magic.

Yong’s mouth gaped open. “Dude. Awesome.” Nuru stared, eyes wide and unblinking. She still fought the stone that crept up her legs.

Varian frowned at the ball of light. “But what about the compass? What was it leading me to?”

“That compass was never yours,” Donella explained. “It was hers.” Donella waved the book. “Depending on your teachings, there’s an eighth stage of alchemy. Spirit into Void. The return to the Source. Essence, Energy, and Spirit. Magic is in threes, you see. And my Magnus Opus will be to separate the three using the Stone.” Using the book, she gestured at the ball of light. “Prima Materia stands before you. But it’s locked. All tied up in what’s left of my old friend.” Her shrewd gaze slid to Hugo. “And you’re going to help me release it.”

“Fat chance of that,” Hugo spat.

“You embody The Elixir of Life and control The Philosopher’s Stone. You’re the only one who can bring her back. Finish the mission.”

“Why don’t you make me?”

“So predictable. And easily distracted.”

A hand wrapped around Varian’s throat, lifting him off the ground. He looked down into Cyrus’ wrecked face as he wrapped hands around the man’s massive forearm to keep himself from choking. Nuru shrieked and Yong shouted his name.

“See,” Donella continued, standing behind the sphere. “There are two elements at work here. The dark is clouding the light. I need you to separate them.”

Hugo finally seemed at a loss for words. “I… I don’t even know what that is.”

“Prima Materia, dear boy. The magic a lifetime of alchemy left behind. Everything Ulla ever accomplished is stored in that orb. Everything she discovered or developed. I need you to peel the rest off.”

“The rest of what?”

“Her residing spirit.”

Varian recalled the living tendrils from the Black Kingdom. The black substance that made up that realm. It was what the dead left behind in their turmoil. That black net holding the orb was all that was left of his mother. Tears burned at the back of his eyes. All this time she’d been trapped, held inside the compass, tied to that gem and to a piece of Varian. His hair had linked them, provided a corridor to hear her voice and see her image. You’ll do it, right Varian? she’d spoken in his dream. When it’s time? I need somebody on my side. “You kept her there!” he screamed, tendons in his neck pressing against Cyrus’ powerful hand. “She knows she’s being held hostage! You’re storing her to use her memory as a battery!”

“And I plan on freeing her. But the soul must go somewhere. In full death, she’ll take the magic she acquired with her. Luckily, you share a blood link. She can live forever, in you. In a way, you’ll be together.”

Hugo roared, “I’m not gonna jam some corroded soul into Varian so you can hand the whole planet over to Saporia for your version of bettering the world!”

“Pittsford was awful!” Nuru yelled. “It looked like utopia on top but the amount of suffering it took to get there was inhuman.”

Yong looked confused. “How can that light ball change the whole world? It’s not even that big.”

“Magic doesn’t work like that, kid,” Cyrus said. “It’s everywhere. With the right incantation, every kingdom on the planet could pull from our energy source. New Saporia will spread across the globe like islands, then one day, one united nation. We’ll have our land back a millionfold.”

“Then quit the pantomime and put him down,” Hugo ordered. “No way you’d hurt Varian. You need him. Seems like a stalemate.”

Donella tipped her chin, menace in her eyes. “I spent an entire generation making plans, and a second one making amendments to those plans. Though not ideal, I can do all this over again and give Ulla a niece or nephew instead. How many did you say she had?”

Fire crackled in Hugo’s eyes, his own betrayal biting him.

“You leave them alone!” Varian relented to reason. There would be no more quests, no more time. Donella could easily snag one of his young cousins to take his place. Verne or Jules would be the simplest to grab, or easily impressionable Wells might be lured willingly as Varian was… “Hugo, do what she says. I have to protect my family.” Cyrus lowered him, though his grip remained solid.

“Not like this!” Hugo snarled, brows furrowed.

“That’s not your call. This is how I save them. No one else has to get hurt.” Regret sat heavy like a weight over Varian’s heart. He wouldn’t be going home. He’d let his dad down, broken his vow. Piece by piece, he built his wall of blank sensation to give him strength to see this through without pleading or sobbing. He tossed a weak smile to Nuru and Yong. “Sorry, guys.” He wanted to promise they’d be okay, but he’d never lie that way. Ruddiger pressed himself to the ground, ears down, tail flat. Hugo shook with fury, arms tight at his sides. He felt awful that Hugo had to be the one to do this. The wall of dark dampened his pain and kept tears from his eyes. “It’s okay,” Varian told him. “I don’t blame you. Love you, dork.”

Hugo looked fit to shatter into a thousand pieces. Tears slid down his cheeks. “Loved you first.”

“Touching,” Donella said, “but superfluous.” She opened the book, a line forming between her brows as she summoned whatever passage she needed. The sound of quills scratching filled the chamber then cut out. She turned the book around and shoved it at Hugo. “Read,” she commanded.

Flicking tears away, he snatched the book from her. His eyes darted down for a quick scan, and he tore a page out, dropping the book while staring her down. His fingers dug into the paper, nearly ripping it. “What’s going to happen to him?” he asked.

“No concern. Ulla can’t be saved. They both stay here.”

Green eyes met Varian’s. This was the best of the bad outcomes. Donella would win, changing the world as she saw fit. But it wouldn’t be instantaneous. In that time, others – Rapunzel, his cousins, heroes around the world, someone – could slow the spread of her influence. The only immediate casualty would be Varian. He nodded at Hugo.

Cyrus shoved him away and stood clear.

Glowering, Hugo began to read. “From Dust, Life.”

His iron ring gave off a pulse of white and he yelped, releasing the paper with one hand, flicking his wrist. The Library’s empty sconces flared to life, each filling with an egg-sized ball of light like a bulb with no source.

“Keep going!” Donella ordered.

Drawing a deep breath, Hugo locked apologetic eyes on Varian. The ring on his finger still gleamed white. “From Dust, Life. From Night, Day. Restore the Past and Show the Way.” The ball of ether trembled in its black-webbed cage, glow pulsing like a racing heartbeat. A current filled the atrium, prickling Varian’s skin like static electricity. The black tendrils slithered all around the orb, writhing like snakes against the flashing light. “Let Glory Shine. Let Truth Reign. Remember Clear Those Who Remain.”

As he read, Hugo unlocked the full might of The Philosopher’s Stone. His hair turned snowfall-white, creeping from his hairline to the tip of his ponytail. Combined with pallid skin, Hugo looked like a ghost. His eyes filled solid green, devoid of humanity. He was absinthe and ice.

Varian’s breath left him. He’d made a terrible mistake. Not long ago, he’d seen how magic corrupted rock-solid Cassandra. Hugo was erratic, emotional, and invincible. Without Varian, Donella would have full influence over him. She’d have an immoral and limitless energy on her side.

Hugo’s voice echoed and amplified, larger than life, repeating the incantation with great precision.

From Dust, Life

From Night, Day

Restore the Past

And Show the Way

Let Glory Shine

Let Truth Reign

Remember Clear

Those Who Remain

Donella plucked the page away. Hugo jutted his hands in front of him and swept them apart, snapping his arms wide. The black webbing ripped from the orb of light, collecting in one palm like a ball of terrible yarn. The ether snapped to his other hand.

The collection of black tendrils sprang forward, soaring towards Varian.

Then, black.

Chapter Text

Infinite black stretched in all directions, leaving Varian effectively blind. Paired with the absence of sound, panic began trickling through his veins. He could be anywhere, or nowhere at all. He swept hands over himself, proving that he, at least, existed in corporeal form. Or – he gulped – that’s what the realm wanted him to believe. Was he still at the Library? Still high over the forests of Corona?

Donella’s voice rode the air as if blown by a breeze. You’re asking the wrong questions.

A giggle sounded in the darkness, and the unbroken expanse of flat black rippled like a pond disturbed by a floundering fish. Varian slowed his breathing, forcing his ears to pinpoint the source of the noise. A crackle and pop made him turn, cautiously stepping through the void. Flickers drew him, tiny and bright in the vacuum. They danced and spun before fading. Another giggle, another slew of twinkling light. Varian drew a shaky gasp. They were tiny bolts of energy, arcing before losing voltage and breaking into shimmering sparks.

“Ulla, stop!” a little boy said. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

The visage of two small children in simple peasant clothes faded into view like a torch chasing shadows away. The red-headed boy and girl reminded Varian of Verne and Jules. “Aw, don’t be shocked!” The girl giggled and blew across her palm, sending another fizzle of energy at her brother. He scrambled away as it faded into burnt ozone.

Ulla’s memory-scape appeared as a solid backdrop of black, people and objects the only details in the void. No scenery, no towns, no sky or earth. Varian looked down at his feet. He seemed to stand on nothing, suspended within the confines of recollection. He tried to speak, to shout for her, but no sound left his throat. He was a prisoner here, a specter haunting a dead woman’s past.

His mother’s girlish laughter echoed as the scene shifted, fading away and reemerging elsewhere. A little older now, Ulla stood bend over something, bringing a hammer down repeatedly, tinkering on some project. “C’mon, ‘Ric,” she urged Ulric, who stood at the end of what Varian suspected was a worktable, holding a long object steady as Ulla worked. “Get amped! This is gonna be so cool!” She kept hammering in tight, precise motions, as if tapping out a metal. “Imagine a water wheel, right? Like the one up at the North River, but no water! No season, no weather getting in the way. Just a big ol’ wheel that turns all day and night. And, fast! Like, super-scuduper fast.”

“You’ve said.” Ulric had a resigned look on his face, as if he’d gone along with her ideas too many times. “Is it going to work this time, or am I gonna have to haul away more burned up bushes?”

“Peh, that was then” she said, waving a hand. She held up a massive copper pitchfork. “You gotta get with the current,” she said, flicking the fork hard enough to make it give a resounding ping. Her face split into a wide-open grin, holding the pose as if waiting for effect.

“Your jokes are bad, Ully. Like, really, really bad.”

Ulla was electricity personified, easily excitable, and naïve. She seemed dorky, sweet, and fun, fueled by a reckless confidence. She wasn’t a terrifying, all-powerful witch, just someone who happened to know a lot about mystical sciences.

The scene dissolved, rebuilding. It snapped to show Ulla up high, brandishing the fork up like Poseidon summoning a tidal wave. Her red hair whipped back and forth as if caught in a tempest. “Storm’s getting bad,” Ulric said from down at Varian’s level.

“Nu-uh,” Ulla disagreed, teeth shining in a wide, dare he say, electric grin. “It’s just getting good!”

Varian spotted the problem just before it happened. He’d seen his mother handle sparks barehanded as easily as pollen, but those were intermittent charges. Now, she held the copper fork like a lance. He drew a breath to shout a warning, lifting a hand.

A branching finger of lightning descended from the black backdrop, striking the tines of the fork. The copper glowed molten. Ulla gave a sharp cry and whipped it away, drawing her hands protectively to her chest. Ulric tried to get up to her. The copper pitchfork tumbled through the air, still white-hot. Varian heard the sloshy creak, creak, creak of what had to be the aforementioned waterwheel spinning, sounding as if it were straining to spin that fast. “Well,” Ulla said in a shaky voice. “It worked.” The wind was still at it, tugging her long hair this way and that.

Crackling and snapping noises made all three of them turn their heads. A dull roar grew louder, bathing the scene in an orange glow. Both Ulla and Ulric stared, their blue eyes wide. Flame. A forest fire, made eerie by the fact that Varian couldn’t see it – wherever he was only showed objects in use and people – but he certainly heard and smelled it, burning vegetation and acrid smoke. Beyond the roar of the fire, off in the distance, he also heard the panicked neighing of horses. Varian thought of the Woods Witch story, and of the horses that ran when the stalls burned, only to be consumed by the ancient snake from under the North Bridge. Ulla stood facing the flames, bathed entirely in reflective orange, mouth hanging open in shock.

Her image bled away, taking the night of the fire with it. When Varian saw her again, she was a young woman and, apparently having learned, now wore gloves and heavy boots. Her blue dress had a hood drawn up, partially shielding her face. The layers and layers of ambient sound, people selling wares, items being moved, even the specific chime of insects seemed familiar. Was this the Ingvarr marketplace?  

Another figure shimmered into existence, coming up behind Ulla. The tall, thin woman had long, glossy black hair fashioned in a thick, trailing braid. She snagged Ulla’s arm and tugged at her. From the shift in light, it seemed they moved into shadow. “For goodness’ sake,” Donella scolded. “I said outside the market.” She was the same as Varian knew her – angular, olive face, drab clothing, and serious tone. Time hadn’t etched lines on her face other than the same Lichtenberg scar.

“Hi!” Ulla practically screeched, face breaking into a wide smile. Catching herself, she lowered her voice. “Oh. I… hi. Sorry, I don’t have friends. Well, I mean, pfft, of course I have friends, I just don’t, um… anyway… I’m glad you came! I wasn’t sure you would after –” Ulla broke off, wiggling a finger at the electrical burn on Donella’s face. “I still feel bad. I can’t always control things.”

Donella’s posture softened a little, and she released Ulla’s arm. “I know. That’s why I had to leave for so long.” Her eyes scanned some place beyond Ulla, possibly the market vendors. “Let’s go back, shall we?”

Ulla’s expression turned downtrodden. She played with her hands. “You’ve been gone for weeks. I was hoping to see… other people. It’s gets lonely sometimes.”

Donella took her gloved hand and drew her into a brisk march. “Nonsense. You have me, your gifts, and all the wonders of the world at hand. What more is there to want?” Though Ulla cast a glance over her shoulder, she willingly left with Donella.

As if blown by wind, the image rebuilt elsewhere. The central focus was the pale blue glow emitting from a stone in Donella’s hand. Ulla gasped, “You brought it!” She swept Donella up in a hug and twirled her, making their hair flutter in an arc. “Oh, I’m positively ex-static!” she laughed.

A blush swept over Donella’s face. She pushed free and shoved the crystal at Ulla. “They’re very rare and potentially dangerous. Just don’t put it on a stick and wave it around. That won’t help rumors.”

Holding the gem aloft, Ulla studied it with keen eyes. “How does it work?”

“Keep it with you. Always. It will absorb and refract your powers. In time, you’ll draw from it. A controlled release, if you will. No more… well…” She paused for tact.

“Big booms that wreck things?” Ulla offered, frowning down at the crystal. “Will you help me practice?”

“I can’t. That’s the thing about honing devices. They only work for one person. It binds to the user, housing a piece of them.” At Ulla’s alarmed expression, she followed with, “You won’t even notice, honest. Generations of Saporian sorcerers did the same.”

“Demanitus didn’t need one, did he?”

Donella tipped Ulla’s chin up and said in a soft, encouraging voice, “We can’t all be Demanitus, now can we? Time we chart our own path.” Hope glittered in her hazel eyes.

It was odd and downright unsettling to see Donella in an encouraging manner. Though, Varian supposed, people went through phases. He did. Hugo did. Eugene. Cass. They all had a balance within them.

Ulla tucked some of her hair behind an ear. “You make it sound so easy. But people don’t just leave Ingvarr. This is my home.”

The serene expression washed from Donella’s face, and she was recognizable once again. “It’s holding you back, keeping you small. Rumors of what you can do have the scientific community ablaze. If I found you, others will as well. And they may have different ideas about how you should use your gifts. You aren’t safe here, Ully. Not for much longer. Join me in Pittsford, where you can be fully appreciated.”

“I’m sorry, Donnie.” Ulla held the crystal to her chest. “I’m just not ready.”

The scene wiped clear and rebuilt. The only alteration was that Ulla’s outfit had changed, and Donella looked furious. Ulla’s smile was broad and apologetic, as if she danced softly with Donella’s emotions. She now wore an apron, and the compass – the same that had been with Varian for months – hung from a simple braided belt. “Nothing has to change. You… well, you’ll just be visiting me in a different kingdom.”

Donella slammed her hands down on a worktable? A bench? There was nothing but two people in the dark of this mindscape. “I don’t want to visit you.” She stepped back, gathering herself. “I begged for years, and you always said no.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “You’ll leave for him, but never for me?”

Ulla gently pushed her arm. “Donnie… this is different. It’s not the end. Electrons push and pull. We can still do all of it – the Library, the Elixir, the Stone. Just not now.” She stared down at hands that could toss electricity around so easily. “The science, the magic, and acclaim will all be there for me later. But Quirin is a simple man. He’s good, and he’s steady. His world is so different. And I… I would scare him.” Her voice had grown very small. Those powerful hands drew into fists. “Give me time, Donnie. There are so many ways to live one life.” Assuredness crept into her tone and a smile grew. “The needle of my compass always points to me. And think that’s because of you. You gave me the ability to see myself. Not just for what I can do, but for who I am. This is my path.”

They rippled away into the black, leaving Varian alone. In that moment, he understood that their entire friendship had been like his and Hugo’s dispute in The Black Kingdom – arguing to try and force a decision on someone. Varian and Donella had been the same, pushing towards a goal at all costs, not listening to their partner. And his mother had been right. To many people, science was scary. If they didn’t understand it, they thought it frightening. Right then, Varian felt so blessed to have had not only support in his endeavors, but friends that understood him. His mother must have felt so alone and cornered in comparison. 

When the scene rebuilt, he was there, in it for the briefest of moments. His mother held a baby, and although its hair was solidly dark brown, he knew it was him. He and his mother had the same nose. Ulla set the baby down in a crib, bent over him, and took up a small tool. He heard the soft shink of scissors snipping. Ulla leaned back, and the crib with its infant faded away. She plucked the compass from her belt and fiddled it open. As she worked, a voice asked, “What are you doing?”

Ulla looked up and faced a new version of Donella. In between the last image and now, gray had run roughshod through her hair, leaving the black heavily streaked. A bookbag hung over her shoulder. A blade – that same retched blade that she’d run Hugo through with – hung at her side. Fresh, hot rage shot through Varian and he shook his head to clear it. This woman kept popping up, wedging herself into the lives of those close to him.

“I, well… look, I know I get a little… charged up. The only way I can go is if I know he’s alright.” Ulla glanced back at the crib as she closed the compass and pressed it to her heart. “I can feel him through this.” She laughed. “He’s so little. He doesn’t even know his goofy mom gave him a funny haircut.”

“And you’re certain this is the time?” Donella asked. She sounded reserved, fearful that Ulla might back out.

Ulla jerked her head in a confident nod. “Yes. It has to be now, while he’s still a baby. I don’t want my son to ever remember a time when I wasn’t there.”

An assortment of scenes played out like a montage, leaping from one to the next. Standing side by side, Ulla pulled a glove off and held her hand aloft. Burn marks formed topography on her palm. A blast of yellow-gold energy burned away the dark as Donella operated the Fire Forge. They fared better than Varian had, mostly due to lack of sabotage.

The Forge wiped away. Both women stood facing forward, terror on their faces, hurling glass vials overhead. Ulla’s were filled with a white substance, Donella’s with gray. Varian watched the vials soar, land, and shatter, the contents spilling over the enormous forms of monstrous Mermaids. Ulla’s vials turned the beasts to marble, while Donella’s turned them to stone. Encased, each monster sank down, absorbed by the dark. Varian recalled the sunken figures beneath the Neserdnian coast, his jagged amber creations gleaming next to smooth marble and ridged stone variations.

High above, lights blossomed everywhere, stretching straight up to infinity. Amid the glowing plants that made up Star Bloom Mountain, Ulla and Donella helped each other climb. A leg up, a hand up. They’d wait, catch their breath, and keep going. High enough, Donella held out what Varian could only describe as a Grab-It Arm, a long metal utensil that neatly chopped a SunDrop. The flower fell into Ulla’s waiting apron, where she bottled it.

The flat black ground shook. Ulla skittered back and forth, laughing as she sent bolt after bolt of lightning to strike in one direction, while Donella rolled up something large and papery, and stuffed it into her pack. The snake skin.“Light on your feet!” Ulla quipped over her shoulder. “Mr. Spargel will be back after the shock wears off, haha!”

“You named that wretched snake?”

“Well, yeah. It’s my snake from my kingdom.”

A simple tableau paused the action. Both women sat around a crackling fire. Varian huffed a laugh when he considered the kindling had likely been set ablaze with a literal snap of his mother’s fingers. Though he couldn’t set the equipment surrounding it, he remembered the syrupy gold color of the Elixir of Life. It hung suspended, bubbling away like the potion it was. He sat down with them, eavesdropping as they spoke of the future. “You said there’ll be money when this is done,” Ulla said, minding the Elixir.

“Oh, yes.” Donella lounged with her legs crossed, back against a log with her arms thrown over the back of it. “Quite a lot, I imagine.”

“Do you think Quirin will be proud of me? I mean… I’m the girl from nowhere.” She drew her legs up under her skirt and wrapped arms around her knees. The effect made her look very small and young. “I could pull us out of poverty. My son… he could be anyone, anywhere. And my brother could live with us! One big family!” She allowed herself a humble smile and her hand fell to the compass, squeezing it. “What about you, Donnie?”

Donella grew pensive. “I see only progress, a world run by magnificent machines that power agriculture, transportation, businesses and homes. Outside of Pittsford, you’re hard pressed to find a paved road. My thoughts are of generations down the line, of things I won’t live to see. I imagine an ease of life without toiling in fields or factories, of eradicating disease and famine, of seeing the entire world in one lifetime.”

A guilty twinge ran through Varian. Donella was more altruistic than he’d given her credit for. He understood she saw science as a tool she was responsible for wielding. His mother saw her arcane gifts as a wonder, focusing on discovery and helping those around her rather than the broad concept of the whole of humanity. That separated the two of them, each balancing the other.

Varian didn’t envy his mother. He didn’t want the burden of magic. Its power loomed too great and, apparently, too difficult to control. At any junction, he could simply choose to stop practicing science. Ulla couldn’t turn her power off. She took it with her wherever she went, terrifying her town, injuring herself and her friend – no wonder she was so pressed to do something good with her abilities, even if that option came with risk. He clutched a tuft of his teal hair. Whether he wanted it or not, he had magic within him. The crystal hidden in the compass told the truth that there were aspects of Ulla’s existence that lived on in him, her legacy of pseudoscience and naïve pursuit of discovery.

Ulla had her head in her hand, dreamily staring off as she considered Donella’s words. “That sounds so wonderful it’s hard to picture. But… you don’t want anyone else in your life?”

“I have what I want.” Donella paused as the elixir brewed, scratching a nail along the log’s bark. “After this… will you join me? Or… can I join you?”

“You’d… join me? Oh!” Ulla leapt up and wrapped Donella in a sweeping hug. Donella gave a crooked, cautious kind of smile. “Of course!” Ulla winked. “My Var-Var will have the best teacher! And I’ll have my friend with me, each and every day. Oh, it will be marvelous. Corona proper is right around the corner. Have you ever been? There’s this festival…”

Varian sighed and stood, rubbing an arm, overwhelmed by what might have been. His mother never came back. He grew up poor and afraid of what his ideas made others think of him. His father didn’t leave Old Corona and Donella still clawed for that shining future, ripping holes in whoever got in her way.

The location changed again. This time, the women walked softly, sneaking with fluid and wary body motions. “I don’t like this,” Donella whispered.

Ulla flapped her hand, dismissing the concern. “It’s fine. Quirin said that the palace was abandoned. The traps have been a little disappointing, honestly. You and I have a very different definition of ‘industrial security’ than most people.”

No. Horror flushed through Varian’s veins. This was the Dark Kingdom. It wasn’t abandoned and certainly wasn’t harmless. His mother never finished this objective. He turned and tried to run. The scene kept enveloping him, forcing him to be present. There was nowhere to go and no way to escape. He stopped running and pressed fingers into his eyes. “No, no, no, no, no, no –”

“We’ve already done the hard stuff,” his mother insisted, still in a whisper. “Now it’s just… well, tricky.”

“For you. I’m allowed to be apprehensive.”

“Aw, you’ll be recharged like a capacitor,” Ulla persisted.

Varian peeled his fingers away. He needed answers, even if the truth was ghastly. And this was all he had – all he’d ever have. He steeled himself to see this through.

Ulla regarded her friend for a while, watching with wide blue eyes. “You know you don’t have to –”

“Of course I have to. It can’t be you.”

Ulla took her partner’s hands and drew them up to her heart. “Do you trust me?”

Donella ducked her head in an almost bashful manner. “What a trivial question. You’re my best friend. I trust you… with my life.”

“Then look up. We’re here.”

Both stared up at what had to be the circular inscription in the throne room. The same room Hugo died in. Varian hugged himself as he stood in this nowhere hellscape, a prisoner. For the Death Trial to begin, someone had to die.

His mother dropped Donella’s hands and stepped back, tugging her gloves off and placing them in the pocket of her apron. She gave Donella the compass from her belt. “Okay,” she muttered to herself, building a charge of shooting sparks between her fingers. “I can do this. It’s going to be alright. It’s fine. I’ve got this.”

“Don’t lose your nerve. It’s just the halting of electrical impulses to the body,” Donella said, her voice still low. She stuffed the compass in her pack, keeping it clear so that Ulla could fully utilize her powers. “You can bring me right back.”

“Yeah. Sure. Of course. What could go wrong here? Just casually electrocuting my best friend.”

“It’s for the future. For the good of all.”

“Just casually electrocuting my best friend for the good of all.” Ulla gave a meek and slightly hysterical laugh.

An echoing bang resounded through the chamber. “Who’s there? I know you’re down here!”

Donella ran, yanking Ulla with her. “Quickly! Hide!” She shouldered a door open and hauled Ulla through. Donella slammed herself solid against the invisible door.

A soft gasp came from Ulla, and she took a step deeper into wherever they were. “Donnie, look –”

Where were they? The only door Varian recalled was the door to the bridge that had once led to the Moonstone. He’d opened it himself, just before Hugo –

Just before Hugo had saved him!

“Mom!” he shouted, leaping.

A creek and a swish sounded. The swinging baton that had barely missed Varian when he was in the Dark Kingdom hit Ulla with enough force to send her flying. Ulla gave the smallest cry as she fell into the chasm below, swallowed up by the empty back of the space.

Varian gasped and reeled. A dizzying wave of disorientation hit him, and he spun, looking all around him. Is that where he was – in that pit, seeing no end to the darkness? He extended his hands as he panted, feeling as if he was falling as well. No. He was still where he was and, oddly enough, so was Donella.

She had frozen, and her mouth hung open in shock. A faint light emitted from her bag, beating like a pulse. Shakily, she backed out the door and ran back the way they’d come. A shout came from the left, then the right. The Dark Brotherhood, coming to stop her. With a shout, she spun, dug in her heels, and plunged both hands into the satchel. She threw heaps of vials at the floor in front of her in a symphony of breaking glass. A wall of interlaced stone and marble burst into existence, spreading up and out like a crashing wave, blocking both branching passages. She fled, streaking away into the void.

Varian stood alone.

The needle of my compass always points to me.

It hadn’t led him to any specific place, only to a method of reaching her. She’d been calling to him, beckoning. He wasn’t crazy or lost in a delusion. There’d been a sentience guiding him. By placing his hair within the compass, Ulla had tied a piece of him to it, forming a bond. For the last few minutes, he’d been following the energy residing in the compass’s crystal, not Donella. He looked deeper, senses probing the blackness. “Mom?” he called, half afraid of what he might find – her broken body, a witches’ assembly in purgatory, the pearly gates.

Slowly, a figure formed, each molecule a grain of sand on the wind, swirling until it built something solid. His mother’s dress and hair blew as if in a breeze, but the colors were wrong. Her red hair appeared dark blonde, and her blue dress silver. He remembered the grayscale look of The Black Kingdom. Her chest heaved in terror and her hands rubbed heartily at her face. “Fade and Fall,” she gasped, eyes dull and vacant. “Fade and Fall. Fade and Fall and Reach the End.”

“Oh, mom.” She was gone. Varian had seen it in Hugo, and without the aid of shifting time and space, he was powerless to help her. “I’m sorry.” What a stupid way to die, foiled by a simple trap in a kingdom rumored to be abandoned, one that her husband – his father – had predicated to ensure the safety of others.

A sudden gasp made him jump with fright. “Varian? Baby? Where are you?” A sharpness came back to Ulla’s eyes, and she whirled, dress spinning. Scared, she pulled her hands to her stomach.

Varian felt as if a load of lumber had dropped on him. This wasn’t possible. They were in two different time periods. Stunned, he extended a hand. “Can you… hear me?”

Ulla backed up, looking all around in fright. “My son! Where is my son?” she screamed at their black surroundings. “What have you done with him?”

“Mom, wait. Slow down. It’s me. I’m here.” He almost touched her before she darted out of reach.

“I’m done!” she yelled, weaving fingers up through her hair. White sparks shot from her entire body and her image shattered before reforming, almost like she'd short circuited. “Drained like a battery! No charge, no charge!” Black tears flowed from her eyes, streaking her cheeks and dribbling down her chin. Drip, drip. They stained the white of her apron. “Fade and Fall. Fade and Fall,” she chanted in a crushed, singsong voice.

“Mom, it’s okay. I’ll... I’ll get you out.” The dream on the ship seemed lifetimes ago. But he’d given his word. “I made you a promise. And I do not break promises! I’m ready. Whatever you needed me for, I’m ready! I came all this way to save you. Just tell me what to do!” Helplessness swelled, filling him up. He didn’t see how this could work. Wetness slid down his cheeks. He touched the tears, and his fingers came away black. Staring at his fingertips, drawing a ragged breath.

The wind stopped and Ulla’s hair hung lank down her back. “This can’t be. It can’t.” Her eyes filled solid black with tears. Electricity arced all around, striking the ground in puffs of smoke. Her image broke down again. She screamed as she shimmered back into existence. “You won’t take him from me! Fade the Fall and Reach the End!” The black spilled over, drenching her dress. Black tendrils unfurled from her hair, fingers, and the ragged edges of her dress. She screamed and dissolved into sobs.

If she’d changed, dissolved into something frantic and dreadful, it explained his bursts of madness. The honing crystal created a bond that tethered them both. The seventh and final stage of alchemy was coagulation. Throughout his life, her emotional state affected him, pushing good sense aside and influencing moments of violent abandon. He’d also drawn from her spiritual well of magic. In turn, it seemed like she’d been acutely aware of his presence, driving her mad.

“Mom, it really is me. I’m on the other side. I… was on the other side.” No matter if this was insane, or they were both trapped in limbo forever, he had to try. “Take my hand. I promise – I swear it – things will be okay.” That wretched shade, this wraith that had once been his mother, looked up at him. She extended a clawed hand, and he grasped it. Unlike Hugo in The Black Kingdom, she was solid. A hope built in Varian. They were doing it! Somehow, they’d connected. He gave a gentle smile. “There. See?”

An electrical charge shot up Varian's arm and he sank to his knees with a shout, feeling like he'd grabbed a live wire. With a sharp jerk, Ulla yanked him down, and they fell into the black gulf of their surroundings. The abyss pressed in on all sides like quicksand. Varian flailed as if drowning. No up, no down, no light or surroundings. He heard his mother crying in his head. There was no way out. Surrendering to the Darkness had always been his fate. He sank into it like bathwater.

Chapter Text

Varian surfaced, startled and gasping like he’d been plunged into frigid water. The atrium of the Library, far away and forgotten moments before, burst back into existence. Something was wrong with his skin. His entire body felt numb and tingly, as if it had fallen asleep. Cyrus was still close enough to grab him if needed. Donella held the page with the incantation loosely at her side, observing Varian through eyes bright with triumph. Hugo, with his white hair, stared down at the ball of pure light in his hand, mesmerized.

“Hugo, snap out of it!” Nuru shouted.

“Leave both of them alone!” Yong added. They struggled, though Donella’s stone spell held their legs. Ruddiger thrashed back and forth and snarled.  

“Silence!” Donella snapped at them. “Keep going,” she urged Hugo. Varian’s wits came back to him. Hugo had halted his chant, breaking the spell. Donella continued to shout, “What do you think you’re doing? We’re almost finished!”

“Ya know,” Hugo drawled to Donella, “I always thought you were the smartest lady I’d ever met. But there’s one tiny matter you didn’t take into account.” He gave her a chilling, arrogant smirk. “I double-cross as a career.” He crushed the ball of ether in his hand, demolishing it. The glow of the shattered bulb syphoned into the Stone on his finger, making the ring burn white. With a thief’s reflexes, he snatched the paper back and snapped it open. A symphony of scratches sounded as the text on the paper shifted. His eyes scanned the page top to bottom, and he began a different chant. “Fade and Fall, And Reach the End.”

Varian immediately recognized The Black Kingdom’s paralyzing chant. Something shuddered inside of him, and a grey veil dropped over his vision, blurring his surroundings. Black ichor filled his palms and dripped down his fingers. His hand moved of its own accord, whipping in Hugo’s direction. A writhing, black tendril shot from his sleeve like a whip. The tail end sent a bolt of dark energy to strike Hugo in the chest. The paper he’d been holding turned to ash, crumbling like sand.

A voice shrieked in Varian’s head. I can’t go back! My son needs me!

“Mom, no! He’s not trying to hurt me!” he shouted, but another voice amplified over his own.

“NO!”

A blast of ink and wrath pulsed out of Varian’s body. It knocked everyone back. A particularly forceful blow shoved Hugo off his feet, slamming him against a wall. He sank to his hands and knees, coughing. Ulla’s presence shifted the atrium into a likeness of The Black Kingdom – black ooze seeped down the walls while inky tendrils twisted along the ground and columns like vines. They wound like Hugo’s cables from Varian’s dream, making the space claustrophobic.

Cyrus darted to Donella, helping her to her feet. “You brash fool!” she shouted at Hugo. “You were to separate the elements, not give them form!”

Two sides of Ulla remained – the light she’d spent her life striving for and the dark tragedy of her death. Echoes of her stay in The Black Kingdom were everywhere – the atrium, the shadowy film over Varian’s eyes, the trickling sensation dripping down his arms. Ulla’s phantom essence wrapped tight around Varian. He couldn’t control his body. She was in him and bleeding her poison throughout the Library.  

“Varian!” Nuro called through his haze. “The elixir! The Elixir of Light! Demanitus was right! It’s not a mistranslation!”

Ionization made the hair at the back of Varian’s head stand up. A crackling sound came from a corner of the atrium. Varian and Donella both tossed bewildered glances in that direction.

Hugo pushed himself up, light spilling from his ring. He raised his head, eyes gleaming full neon green, pupils lost in the glare, hair blindingly white. Electricity lanced all around him in jagged patterns. Electrokinesis. He’d taken control of Ulla’s magic, and his voice took on that augmented manner once again.

Fade and Fall

And Reach the End

Call Spirits Back

Let Old Aches Mend

He raised an arm and sliced his hand down in a quick stroke, creating a bar of pure light. Hugo, an archer, grabbed the center with both hands and drew one back, the elbow high – creating a bow of light.

Rescind Shadow

And Haunted Night

Close the Door

And Stop the Fight

It was a binding spell, the same as the one from the Black Kingdom. Hugo wasn’t kidding about having an excellent memory. Even without the page, he’d managed to complete the chant. He released the nocking point, sending a bolt of lightning to strike the dark coating surrounding Varian.

Varian gasped as he was struck. Ulla’s essence recoiled, only to snap right back like a rubber band. An urge rose in Varian to let loose in a torrent of destruction, to rise to his full might. He squeezed his eyes tight. That wasn’t his thought. Ulla’s shade overpowered him. He swept his arms up and dark wisps stretched to twine through the bow of light, crushing it out of existence with a sizzle.

Hugo took a step back and punched out the fist with the ring on it. Sparks whirled out from it like a firework, snapping back to form a shield of solid light, and ducked behind it. The wisps Varian sent out hardened into tendrils akin to octopus tentacles. They cracked against Hugo’s energy shield, hammering his defense to bits. Hugo growled and began the chant again.

Fade and Fall

And Reach the End

Lights like a migraine blasted into Varian’s head, and Ulla’s influence, and her branching tendrils, withdrew for a second time. While he struggled to find a grounding force, Hugo sprang into motion, sending a volley of energy attacks out with the speed he used to throw his ice orbs. His light powers were like pyrotechnics, shooting stars, the crackle of welding sparks, and solid beams, driving Ulla deeper into the Library and Donella towards the entrance. The engineer side of Hugo had vanished. This guy was all the fearlessness and confidence Varian had seen in peeks and patches along the road, using Ulla’s former light magic against her.

One round hit the stone trap holding Nuru, Yong, and Ruddiger pinned in place. The rock shattered and crumbled to dust. Nuru locked vengeful eyes on Donella and her flunky, though it was Ruddiger that lead to charge against them. The five of them streaked out of the atrium and onto the Library’s open plane, which was probably for the best, seeing as how Ulla and Hugo were caged in a battle of magic in the atrium with Varian caught up in the middle of it.

Eyes iridescent with green and no pupils, Hugo looked intoxicated on magic, hair still snowy white. He twirled along the perimeter of the atrium, tossing balls of light, wielding them as concussive force. They left scorch marks. Ulla deflected some, absorbed others, each knocked Varian a little silly but didn’t technically hurt him. Ulla’s tendrils wound around columns, yanking them down to get to Hugo. The dome crumbled around them. “Blue, stop!” Hugo shouted, staying on the move, weaving just out of Ulla’s reach.

“I can’t!” Varian screamed, his voice lost in his mother’s banshee shriek. “This isn’t me!”

Hugo launched into the chant again, shoving a beam of light at Ulla as she used Varian’s body to fight, cracking her dark magic like whips in both hands. Her inky tentacles coiled around the beam, encasing and extinguishing it. Tendrils twined around Hugo’s wrists, splashing to a liquid over one hand to smother the Stone’s light. Varian tried to psychically pull against Ulla’s crushing grip, attempting to free Hugo, who sank to his knees. Hugo’s veins turned black beneath pale skin, marring his face, neck, and hands. Those black veins crept closer to his eyes, their vivid green flickering like a candle about to go out. Ulla’s Darkness was inside him.

Terror and rage cut through Varian like a blade. In control or not, he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Hugo. His psyche rammed at his mother’s grasp on him, breaking through a crack in her oppressive aura, pushing her back down. “I’m in here,” he called. “I’m trying to fight her!”

For a fraction of a moment, Hugo’s eyes cleared. He’d heard Varian. When Hugo looped the chant a fourth time in a choking whisper, Varian knew the plan wasn’t working. She refused the docile status those in The Black Kingdom were subjected to. Something was keeping her tied to reality.

Varian’s breath rushed out as he grasped why. She’d always been tried to reality. Her whispers and madness, half here and half dead for ages, fracturing her grasp, driving her toward an insane fear over Varian’s safety, ironically putting him in danger. His gaze slid across the magic-beaten floor. The compass lay partially buried under rubble. None of this was Ulla’s fault. She existed as a corrupted shade, latching onto loss and despair. His Darkness isn’t his fault either, only an unfortunate link that she and him shared. The dream – Ulla asked him to be on her side, to do it, to end her entrapment.

Ulla and Hugo both held incredible power, but Varian had magic in him, too. He wasn’t lost to emotion, even in his worst moments he’d held on to love, loss, and an acceptance of his fate. He dug deep, driving his focus into all the little instances in his lifetime when he’d loved both his mother and Hugo. “Mom, it’s okay. I’m gonna be okay,” Varian explained. “I am on your side.” He thought of Dad, Corona, his cousins, Nuru, Yong, even Ruddiger, and… he watched Hugo struggle, nearly encased in black strands of ethereal darkness. “I still have a family. A big one. And no one will ever take them away from me.”

A pop of teal formed around him, separating him from Ulla’s oppressive hold. The color clung to him like a second skin. He had control again, even if it was temporary. He threw himself into a run, cutting a jagged path back to the compass while fishing under his shirt. Hopping over broken stonework, he skidded to a stop right over the open compass, its hidden gem glowing up at him in the same hue that coated his body. He popped the cork of his chemlight and dribbled the corrosive contents down onto it. The lock of hair smoked, the crystal cracked, and the whole thing dissolved. There was a sound like rushing wind and his teal casing fell away.

In a flash, he was transported. He blinked, unable to make out where he was. Then he realized he wasn’t anywhere. He stood in a vast white expanse, like the nightmare-scape he saw his mother grow up in, only inverted. And he wasn’t alone. A red-headed woman with his nose took his hand and brushed his dark hair back. She looked proud, and calm, and grateful, her dress neat, her hair flowing. They didn’t share words. She just kissed him on the cheek and let him go. He knew, deep down in his soul, that this was goodbye.

Everything flashed again, and Varian blinked the afterimage of his mother from his eyes. He dropped the empty vial. With Ulla gone, Hugo’s black veins faded and he flopped to his side. Varian sprinted over and dragged Hugo into his lap. His hair still gleamed white. That was okay. Varian was used to people with magic hair. “Wow… okay,” Hugo said, panting. He seemed exhausted, his eyes still fully green and unfocused. “I guess I’m a wizard. I’m confiscating your staff for personal gains.” He sounded drunk and waved a meek finger at Varian. “Hey…your pretty hair is gone.”

Varian tugged at his bangs. No streaks of teal. They’d vanished. He’d destroyed the crystal that operated as an unintentional homing device. So what? He’d never really needed magic, anyway.

Speaking of, he helped Hugo up, who seemed in rough shape, shaky and out of breath. “Uh oh,” Hugo muttered. “Well, this could be a problem.” Still tipsy on magic, he wandered to the center of the destroyed atrium, cradling the hand with the ring against his chest. The ring pulsed with each rapid, palpitating beat of his heart, shooting needles of light through his fingers.

“Problem? What problem? Are you okay? Where are you going?”

Hugo hissed low. “Sheesh. Enough with you and the questions,” he slurred. “Too much. It’s like the Pittsford pipes. Gotta release pressure.” Varian realized that just because Ulla was gone, her magic wasn’t. The ether remained in Hugo, who didn’t have the knowledge or training to handle it. Hugo blew out and closed his eyes. “Okay, don’t freak out. I’m gonna try something.”

Of course, Varian freaked out.

Hugo’s eyes popped open, glowing full green. A sphere of light burst from within him, releasing a power surge of crackling energy. Static washed over Varian’s skin as the entire library flared blinding white. The Library restored itself to glory from the ground upwards. Ground smoothed into tightly laid tiles etched in gold detailing. The columns righted themselves, marble with swirls of gold set into the stone. Faded tapestries blossomed in rich embroidery, needle-pointed imagery of their Trials on full display. The dome above stretched into full repair, encased, of course, in gold.

Varian followed as Hugo drifted outside to the barren world that the Library inhabited. Boy, Nuru, Yong, and Ruddiger must have chased Donella all the way back through the portal, as they were definitely not present. For a moment, Varian worried about everyone.

Hugo took a knee hard, placing a hand flat on the ground. Dead grass sprang to life, green spreading out from his touch. More lucid now, Hugo stood and focused on more nuanced efforts, making a terrarium of the plane. His graceful hands moved as if conducting an orchestra, controlling the sprawl of greenery. Fully formed trees unfurled from the grounds like hands, branches unfolding like fingers as trunks thickened and stretched skyward. Vines and honeysuckle climbed the outside walls, tiny buds blooming. The effect was stunning and made the Library look worth its legend.

Varian thought about Hugo not liking pants, but nothing in this realm was real. No sun, no soil, just a space fully constructed by Demanitus’ magic and innovation. Now, with the Philosopher’s Stone, Hugo could create anything he wanted. Here, he was the Librarian. Varian stifled a laugh, because when they left, he was certain that Hugo would make himself very, very, disgustingly rich.

Hugo’s eyes faded to their regular shade, and he dropped his outstretched arms. His hair remained shock white. “Okay,” he said in a tired voice. “Done now.”

Varian ribbed him in the side. “You just had to add all that gold, didn’t you?”

“Just giving the alchemy crowd what they’ve always wanted.”

“And it’s shiny.”

Hugo smirked. “That it is. Oh. And one last thing. Well, two.” He pulled the Stone ring off. It shimmered into pure gold. He crafted a matching gold band in his other palm and held it out. “If you were serious.”

“I… of course I was.” Varian took the band, his heart swelling. They were going to have a life together in Corona, just the way he’d dreamed. Sans the horror of his mother’s Darkness, of course.

Hugo slung an arm around him. “You still owe me one diamond,” he reminded.

“I’ll do you one better.” He’d made a Cassandrium jewel. He could make a Hugorium one, too. They both slid their rings on. Varian gave a start and yanked Hugo by the collar. “The others! Come on!”

They raced for the portal.

Chapter Text

Travel through the shimmering, round portal was instantaneous. Varian had to blink to adjust to the shrouded junglescape of Demanitus’ Tomb. To his relief, he found Yong wielding the staff housing Last Resort and Nuru with her spear. Both weapons were trained on Donella and Cyrus, who stood back-to-back, Donella’s hand on her dagger, Cyrus grasping the cords of a simple, burlap pouch. Ruddiger stood atop the satchel of books and journals chronicling the journey here. The situation was contained.

Yong tossed Varian his staff. He caught it, elation soaring through his veins. They’d done it. The four of them had conquered all seven trials, located the Library, and put his mother to rest. Home was less than a day away where they – along with Hugo’s powers – could easily force Donella and her chain of associates to stand before King Fredric for recklessly endangering not only them, but Varian’s cousins. He was certain that his father would demand an audience with her as well, which might just be the worst of her sentence.

A prickle of his senses told him he was alone on the platform. He turned his head to see Hugo slam into the center of the portal. Hugo stumbled backwards before marching forward to shove at the door between dimensions. The tips of his fingers flattened as if pressing against glass. He yelled, but no sound permeated from the Library’s plane.

Ruddiger sprang up and raced across the chamber, streaking past Varian, and dove into the portal. The raccoon appeared on the other side, winding around Hugo’s ankles as the tall boy shoved against the center in a panic. Ruddiger leapt back out, rose chittering on his back legs, and hopped back in to accompany Hugo. He could go back and forth. But Hugo was trapped.

As Varian stared, aghast, he heard Demanitus’ warning from The Black Kingdom. Magic in, but not out. Hugo’s white hair! He was still bound to the power of the Philosopher’s Stone, trapped in the cage of the Library’s plane. If Varian hadn’t destroyed the crystal he was tied to, he would have been imprisoned as well.

Hugo stopped fighting the portal and froze, staring past Varian as terror swept across his face. Even before Varian turned, he knew something awful had happened. The scent of smoke and burning foliage choked the tomb. Donella was in a fury, tossing glass vials that caused fire bursts. Hugo’s orange orbs merely looked like flame; hers caused actual blazes. Cyrus tossed her the pouch and wove for the exit as Nuru and Yong backed away from the spreading inferno. Flames licked too quickly. There would be no way to save the tomb.

“You ignorant –” Toss. “Selfish –” Toss. Shatter. “Brat!” Toss. Shatter. Burn. “You destroyed a friend I’ve spent a generation trying to revive!” Donella screeched, hair disheveled, eyes deranged. “A lifetime of work! The chance of an automated future! You aren’t anything like her! All you are is the son of a dirty farmer playing pretend!” She plunged her hand into the pouch she’d been given. “So I’ll spend lifetimes undoing what you’ve ruined.” She withdrew a flask, its contents alight with liquid gold. The first Elixir, the one Ulla had made eighteen years ago.

“Varian!” Nuru shouted. Embers rained down from the palm fronds. “We have to go!”

“What’s wrong with Hugo?” Yong called, hugging the satchel of books awkwardly against himself. “Tell Ruddiger to come back!”

They didn’t have the luxury of arguing, panicking, or trying to salvage anything. If Donella used the Elixir, she’d be immune to the flame, and could rush back into the Library’s realm while the tomb burned down. She could hide there until no one alive remembered her, then begin her plan again, this time with Hugo to power her inventions instead of Ulla. Hugo would fight her, no doubt, but a glance at a page while wondering how to defeat him would give all her the answers. Once inside, Donella could never be removed. There was no way to safeguard the information the Library held. Not from Saporians, mad scientists, sorcerers, cultists, or any manner of villain. By opening the door, they may have ended the world.

He had to destroy the gate. Varian looked from his staff to the portal, hearing Hugo’s words from hours earlier. An acid could eat straight through the bark. Melt it, simple and clean. He swept the staff up like swinging an axe, the corrosive Last Resort orb still housed in its center. Varian and Hugo locked eyes. Everything was too fast, rushing by like during the Air Trial, with no ground below. Hugo, still pressed against the portal, nodded in understanding and acceptance. Varian brought the staff down, rupturing Last Resort, sending acrid green contents spilling out to disintegrate the contraption. Crystals shattered with pops of blue. He dropped the staff’s rod and stepped back as acid made the gateway disintegrate.  

“No!” Donella screamed behind him. “What have you done?”

“Oh my, God, Varian!” Nuru cried.

Hugo peered out of the portal, watching the gateway dissolve beneath him. Ruddiger hopped onto his shoulder. Without the device, the portal winked from existence, taking its shining circle.

Horror filled Varian to the brim. He’d just sentenced Hugo to an eternity alone in another realm of existence. Him along with Ruddiger.

So… yes? You’ll come back with me?

Yeah, Blue. Yes.

He started gasping, lungs and limbs quivering, losing control. Sound faded in and out. As the smoke continued to roil, he began coughing. His chest felt squeezed, and he couldn’t draw a breath. He sank to his knees, consumed with grief as ash and fumes pressed in. Somebody grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him out, past the stone entryway and onto the ledge leading down the mountain. Flames engulfed the tomb, black smoke billowing out the over top. “Varian!” Yong shouted, shaking him. “Are you okay?” He must have gotten an awful look on his face, because Yong’s eyes widened and he stepped back.

What sort of question was that? He’d never be okay. He’d peered into a vast abyss of yawning Darkness before and let pieces of it slide into him. Hot vengeance had driven him mad, putting everyone in Corona in peril. Now, he sank like an anchor into a sea of hate, injustice, loss, and frustration. All of this – everything he’d seen and done, the people he’d met, the secrets uncovered – just to find himself worse off than before he’d begun. The moment Donella strolled into his laboratory, his life shattered.

Donella. Slowly, Varian twisted around. Spry Nuru had twisted one of the dust sheets from old equipment around Donella’s forearms, trussing her. Donella thrashed and spat like a bound cat, the pouch containing the Elixir dangling at her side, but Nuru knew her knots. The binding held.

Like a cobra, Varian rose, eyes fixed on the older woman. A shaky, forceful breath left him. This. This is the worst pain of his life. He’d outdone himself to cause the loss of his mother, Ruddiger, and Hugo in one day. Spots of red danced in his vision. Maybe it was embers, maybe it was his blood boiling. His hands were thankfully empty. Otherwise… otherwise he’d… he didn’t want to know what he’d do. He looked back at the smoldering tomb.

I do.

I do, too.

Another empty promise. A future he’d never have. His doing. His fault. An anvil fell through his heart. Hugo would never see Corona. He’d stay at the Library for the rest of time. Even if Varian could rebuild the portal’s base from memory and find a way to charge it, Hugo controlled the ability to open the gateway. They’d never be able to coordinate it. His head swung back to Donella and his friends.

Donella stopped fighting Nuru and glared, aware of her defeat. “Now, you understand. You and I, boy – we’re the same. I’ll never have her. And now, you’ll never have him.”

Varian recoiled, realizing how close he was to becoming her, someone propelled by blind action due to the loss of a loved one. He’d lost himself before, fallen headfirst into pity and rage. Donella had never snapped out of her need to achieve, opting to drag Ulla through her plan regardless of what it did to either of them. Would Donnella’s idea of a better, automated tomorrow come? It almost didn’t matter if the lengths she’d be willing to go to cost so many others their lives and autonomy.

He stood at a tipping point, back into vengeance and despair, or to force a different path. His thoughts were cloudy, recollections and images flicking through his mind. What’s your dream now, V? Rapunzel asked from memory.

Time, had been his answer.

Time to fix this. Time to find a solution. Lifetimes, if necessary.

You’ve removed the constraints of never, Blue. Now, it’s all just eventually.

Varian scowled at Donella in defiance and pounced on her. Nuru opened her hand as if to stop him from doing something terrible. “Varian, wait –”

He tore the pouch away, cradling the flask inside. “We are not the same,” he told Donella, who looked furious, guessing what he was about to do. “I found him once. I’ll do it again. And I won’t lie or hurt anyone to do so.” He let the pouch fall, exposing the richly colored solution within the flask. The cork popped free with simple effort, and he raised his arm. The original Elixir, created and blessed by his mother, poured out over his head. Varian braced for a splash. Instead, particles bounced and gleamed as they drifted down like stardust, forming a veil over him. His skin glimmered gold. He was in the same immortal boat as Hugo now.

It was as if sunlight touched his soul. Those heavy feelings of doom and failure lifted, allowing for a moment of clarity as he shimmered. He’d pursued this quest to its end, chasing a fantasy. His mother was gone, yes, but he’d set her free. He’d learned so much about himself, his linage, and what he wanted his future to look like. He’d fallen in love. He was done feeling sad or angry about loss. There was comfort in logic and planning. He could solve this. Hugo felt out of reach, but not lost. He was still alive, and Varian vowed to dedicate as long as needed to reopen the portal.

He faced Donella as a man, one adult to another, standing before her in all his shining glory. Donella lunged for him. Her bonds strained at their full length, snapping her back to Nuru’s feet. She tossed her long hair and hissed, “Now you’re trapped in this world. You’ll go mad watching humanity stumble and fail for millennia before achieving anything worthwhile. Do you know how many lives you’ve cost? How many generations will have to suffer because of a personal vendetta?" she shouted. “I hope the entire world knows your name just to whisper it in slurs. I hope you get to see all of it. And I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

Nuru tugged on the cord binding Donella. “That’s why you didn’t use the Elixir yourself? Because you just couldn’t wait to figure a way to make your dreams real on your own?”

“Are you stupid?” Yong asked, cocking his head. “Because, like, a smart person would enjoy the process. Getting there, even if you mess up, is what makes a discovery worthwhile.”

“I doubt you’re the humanitarian you make out to be,” said Varian, folding his arms. “We’ve seen enough from you to know how ruthless and self-serving you are.”

“All I had was her!” Donella cried, the ferocity crackling and dying in her eyes. Her voice dropped in volume and tone. “And when I didn’t have her… all I had was the dream of what could be. Now, you’ve taken both from me.”

In that moment, he stared at her and saw himself, connected by the grief of failing to rescue someone. He didn’t rescue his father. He didn’t stop Cassandra. He failed to convince Hugo to leave the Black Kingdom, Hugo deciding to return on his own. If Hugo hadn’t come back, if Rapunzel hadn’t been able to free his father, Varian never would have stopped trying. He very well could have driven himself to madness. All Donella had was Ulla, and she was gone in an instant. That was her Amber Incident, only Donella didn’t have the support system Varian had. She’s who he would have become, relentlessly searching for a way to save a person he loved. In her own way, she really was trying to spare Varian’s group by killing Hugo outright, making sure that his body remained accessible.

Following a deep breath, he said, “The dream isn’t gone. I can finish my mother’s work, bringing energy and progress to the kingdoms. All the kingdoms in all the world. But it will be done differently, in collaboration with my peers, not under my decree.” He grinned at Nuru and Yong and thought of all the people he’d ever met who supported him. Would the road be long and hard? Sure. Would he meet opposition? Almost certainly. But what was life, or science, without a goal and faith in achieving it? “That’s the difference between us. I’m excited for the process, to see where it all leads. Besides,” he said, spreading glittering hands. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Chapter Text

Corona’s capital island seemed a thing of fantasy, some dream from eons ago. Terrain from the other kingdoms came to mind – the rolling hills of Bayangor, the beaches of Neserdnia, the towering caverns of Koto, the deep forest of Ingvarr, the pervasive gloom of Galcrest, and the matte steel of Pittsford.

Varian raced through Corona, Yong and Nuru trailing behind, towing Donella with them. His golden shimmer had faded, sinking into his skin. His Pittsford finery was worse-for-wear, his stripped pants tattered and flame-brushed. He flew past Rapunzel, who was finishing a mural arching around the palace gates. “Varian, you’re back!” she stated, paintbrush in hand. “And you have… a hostage?”

He turned his head, yelling a quick introduction over his shoulder without stopping. “RapunzelNuruYong.” Once his friends filled her in, Rapunzel could handle Donella’s confinement until her trial. Varian had a far more urgent matter to attend to. A year had passed since he rushed out of the palace, an upbeat and aspiring journey ahead of him. As he traveled the polished floors and art-splashed walls, it felt like moving backward. He burst into the chamber he and his father shared.

Quirin stood near the window, out of his armor, a letter in his hands, sunshine warming his face. At the creak of the door, he glanced up. “You returned.” Relief softened his expression. “Just like you promised.”

Varian threw himself at his father, stretching his arms to wrap tightly around him, letting him be a grounding presence. They stood there in blessed silence for a long time, Quirin squeezing him back and giving him space to speak when ready. “You know me,” Varian finally said, choking down tears. “I keep my word.”

He felt the rumble of his father asking, “Did you find what you were looking for, son?”

“Yes, and no.” Varian swallowed and lowered his arms. “I found out what happened and… Donella was right. It was an accident, but… mom really is gone.” Though it seemed everything had changed, that one fact remained.

His father squeezed his shoulders. “Are you alright?”

“I… yeah.” Varian recalled the look of pride on Ulla’s face when he released her. “I’m ready to let go.”

“Speaking of,”– Quirin raised the letter –“I received this from Ulric, your uncle, though it’s been some time since we spoke.”

Varian hadn’t really lost his mother. She’d been with him from the onset. And although her spirit was gone, his family had grown. Blood relatives. His extended family in Corona. The people he’d come across who now loved and cared for him. “You should write back. I still have something I need to do. Love you, Dad.”

The sun had nothing on the warmth of his father’s smile. “I love you, Son.”

He went straight to his lab to pace and think. The chamber felt emptier without Ruddiger, and Varian’s physical self seemed compressed by the weight of responsibility, a tiny figure in the vast laboratory. His mind plucked at ideas. Everything from the Tomb’s storeroom was gone. He didn’t have access to any more crystals to power Demanitus’ devices. Neserdnia. Both Hugo and Donella had done work there. If either had stockpiled Old Saporian crystals, the cache would be in Pittsford now. As Hugo’s proxy, Varian would go back to the Dregs and clear out his old safehouse. His hands closed around nothing. He owned nothing to remember Hugo by. He’d take everything he could carry home.

A glint flashed on one of his fingerless gloves. His right thumb peeled back the soft leather to reveal his wedding band. No, he told himself. He had one thing. Though Hugo had conjured it out of magic, it sat warm and real and solid on his finger. A chill flushed through him. He was immortal now, too. Even if he swayed a miracle and got the portal open, he’d be just as trapped once he went through it. “Magic in, not out,” he muttered.

Oh, man. This was going to be hard. His solutions lay within a realm of supernatural mysticism he could barely comprehend. Faith slipped through his fingers, hard to grasp. Though he longed to, rushing would only drive him to frustration and desperation, turning him into the person Donella would have become. He could figure it out. Heck, Hugo could be combing the Library right now for solutions. The books within held everything ever written. But did they hold everything that would be written? Though convenient, Varian doubted it. From what he understood about magic, it had to pull from an existing source, not one that transcended linear progression.  

He longed for Demanitus’ guidance, even Zhan Tiri’s, anyone that grasped the link between science and magic. But he’d have to do it on his own. An overwhelming wave of frantic doubt tried to hammer its way into his skull. He carded fingers through his hair and grit his teeth, tears welling. He had to succeed. There was no other choice.

“Varian?” Rapunzel’s voice called. Soft footsteps sounded down the stairs. “Are you down here?” She and Eugene descended into the lab.

“You okay, kid?” Eugene asked, brows knit in concern. “Your friends said you had a fourth member...”

For a moment, Varian stood still, gasping. Rapunzel swept him into her arms. He needed to be strong in front of Nuru, Yong, his dad, and certainly in front of Donella. In Rapunzel’s arms, it was safe to fall apart. Tears came on hard, and he cried in a gulping, hiccupping kind of way. “I lost him,” he wept. “I closed the gate. I sent him off alone.”

Eugene’s hand found his back. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Who are you talking about?”

“My husband.”

A quiet beat stretched, and Varian felt Rapunzel and Eugene look at each other. “Well, you… you built the gateway before,” Rapunzel said, the cheeriness in her voice bellied by uncertainty. “You already know how. That’s easy.”

Still in her arms, Varian shook his head. “It’s not about the gate. Hugo controls the portal. We both have to open it at the same time.”

“Okay. So?” Rapunzel asked.

“The exact same time.” Varian pulled away, swallowing. Rapunzel seemed to grasp the difficulty of the situation and, although she didn’t quite frown, her gaze flicked down.

“Look, Goggles,” Eugene began. “This guy… he’s smart, right? Can’t imagine you’d pick some dunce. And he knows you pretty well?”

Varian wiped his face with a sleeve. “He does.”

“Then he’s gotta know how you’re cursed with ambition. You never give up. That’s what’s annoying about you, but it’s also your best trait.”

A pinprick of brightness bloomed in Varian’s chest, the slightest flickering of hope. “He’s… well, he’s not totally alone. He does have Ruddiger.”

Rapunzel briskly rubbed his arm. “Well, Ruddiger is good company.”

Varian managed a small smile. “Yeah, he is.” If Hugo could grow plants, he’d figure out that he could grow food. Hugo was sensible and resourceful. Both he and Ruddiger would both be alright.

With Quirin and Ulric back in contact, plans were made to visit the extended family for a service honoring Ulla. Varian didn’t go deep into details, but his entire biological family wanted to meet and pay their respects. Varian and his father left as soon as a meeting place was decided. They took Yong home along the way. The boy definitely knew how to stand up for himself now and could follow any path he chose in the future. Quirin offered him a place in the guard when he got older, promising plenty of cases to solve and people to save.

Nuru stayed in Corona, working with the royal court to hammer out a deal with Koto to demolish Star Bloom Mountain. Rapunzel mentioned it would be a lot of long-winded politics that would eventually fall into her lap, as the project could take generations. Eugene personally saw to the incarceration of Donella.

Having had enough of adventure, Varian and his father stuck to the outskirts of Corona after dropping Yong off, relishing time alone as they traveled to the Earth Kingdom. Getting the whole family together served two purposes – a funeral for Ulla, yes, but after, Varian needed their scientific expertise.

On the road, finally alone with his father, Varian revealed what the Trials had entailed, ending on losing a member of their team, and taking the Elixir made by Ulla. He tried to condense the tale into easy-to-understand factoids. “So, yayyyy… immortality…” he quipped in a singsong voice, trying to soften the blow.

His father looked truly disturbed. “My, God, Varian… you’ll be alone.”

In that instant, Varian understood why his father had been so averse to his scientific pursuits and didn’t blame him in the slightest. The quest for the Trials had cost both of them their spouses. Nuru had the books and ledgers that paved their way. No one else would follow. The only copies were inside the pages of the Library’s books.

“Dad, I… I was close to the person we lost. Hugo. The one that’s stuck in the Library.”

“Oh?” Though he seemed interested, he still seemed upset.

“He’s smart. And pragmatic. And braver than I ever imagined he could be. And way more advanced in engineering. Like, it’s almost ridiculous.”

Quirin hummed in thought. “A partner? Will that be enough?”

“It… It’ll have to be.” It felt rushed to tell his father he and Hugo were more. “And I won’t be alone. He took an Elixir, too. First, actually.” Varian sighed out guilt and frustration. “I have to get back to him.”

“Then, you should. You’re facing… well, a very long time. And I’m relieved you’ll have someone at your side.” His father put an arm around him. “How did you meet?”

Although he’d described the Trials, Varian hadn’t delved into the personal details of his quest. “Okay, well, that’s a long story…”

When the whole family met up, it was the strangest experience. To be back in that cluttered, charming cottage, watching see his father and uncle laugh, hearing his cousins talk over each other as each tried to show their Uncle Q something they’d made, and have Aunt Bea pat him on the back and tell him how proud she was to see them all together – it felt like home. He’d always felt out of place in Old Corona, and the palace was always a little too gaudy and grand for his taste. He’d waited his whole life to belong. To finally have that was staggering.

Later, with the children sent off to bed, the older members of the family gathered at the dining table. It felt strange to be considered one of the adults, but Varian certainly was one now. As his aunt and uncle told stories from before he was born, Varian picked at his glove under the table, finally pulling it off to spin his gold band in thought. He knew deep down he’d never see Ruddiger again, and worried about Hugo’s frame of mind once completely isolated. Magic had led him astray. Varian wasn’t a sorcerer and had lost any residual powers from Ulla when he’d set her free. He had no idea how to save Hugo. He put his hand over his eyes, and the talking stopped.

“Varian!” Uncle Ulric gushed. “That’s solid gold! Why, it must have cost a fortune.”

His hand slid tiredly down his face. It was time for the truth. “No. Not really. Hugo made it. Literally. He can make gold. He has transmutation and energy magic now.”

Quirin’s jaw hardened. “Varian… that’s a band.”

“Yeah. It is. And we… Hugo and I… we didn’t have anyone around, and we didn’t say much, but… in all the ways that matter…” He drew a deep breath. “We’re married. And nothing, no distance, no matter how many years pass, would make me think otherwise.”

Bea and Ulric shared a glance. Quirin quietly contemplated in his standard way. Silence stretched before he asked, “… you love him?”

Despite the deep terror that his father would disapprove, Varian said, “Yes.”

“And he loves you?”

“He does.”

A pregnant pause held the room captive. His father nodded. “Alright, then.”

“A-alright?” Varian stammered. He expected some pushback – that they were both boys, that they’d made their pact in private, that Hugo was the reason Varian took the Elixir.

His father smiled and placed a hand on his arm. “I’m happy for you.” He looked at Bea and Ulric, who put arms around each other. “And we’re here for you. Both of you.”

“Well,” Aunt Bea said, a tear in her eye. “I wasn’t going to rub it in, but I do believe I called that. You clearly adored each other.”

“We do.” Varian grinned to himself, a weight lifting from his shoulders. “And we will again.”

That night, Varian and his father bunked in the workshop. The witching hour came and went as Varian stared at the rafters. Everyone on this side of reality was currently safe. Currently, he recalled his mother giggling, one of her bad electricity puns. Yong was home, Nuru in Corona with his found family, and his blood all gathered at the same homestead. It was finally safe to relax and let his mind wander.

He thought of vague things – Water pressure cracking his pipes in Corona. Lamplights that made cobblestones gleam in the night. Of short days wracked with snow and long days filled with discovery and friendship. Of reading his science books by candlelight, so afraid that the wax would drip and ruin the pages.

The pages.

Varian sat up. A thrill coursed through him as an idea began to form.

The books in the Library could access anything written – unpublished works, personal letters, recipes, notes hastily scrawled on tabletops and handkerchiefs. Hugo had access to everything ever written to occupy himself, including everything currently being written. His mother laughed again from his memories.

He got up, found a blank sheet of paper on a worktable, and scrawled a note.

I love you. I’m on the way.

- Blue

Chapter Text

210 Years Later

Nights were cold in the lower deck of Prometheus, but Varian wouldn’t trade them for anything. “So, I mean,” he said, looking up at the steel girders that formed the hold’s framework. “It’s nice that I don’t have to hide my projects anymore, but…well…I’d still like to discuss how I did it and have someone understand.” He often felt elated at a job well done and, while those in Corona appreciated his efforts, they didn’t grasp the finesse he insisted on providing. It would have been wonderful to confer with a peer.  

“Meh,” Hugo said, toying with a strand of teal hair since Varian’s head was conveniently located in his lap. “Then you lose the wow factor. Honestly, a lot of inventions are less impressive once you know how the proverbial sausage is made. I like the flair, the wonder, the oh-so-handy garment-rending distraction of taking folks by surprise.”

Varian snorted a laugh. “That’s because you steal things while people are looking the wrong way.”

The ship creaked, vibrating slightly with the turning of the motor. Hugo looked down into Varian’s eyes. “Got your attention now, don’t I?”

Warmth spread throughout Varian’s limbs. “Always.” He reached up to cup Hugo’s narrow face.

A buzzing alarm sounded, and the scene pixelated, fracturing both boys and the ship. “Hey, Varian, sorry,” Huxley’s voice came over a speaker. “But the actuators are jamming again. The sources aren’t playing nice today.”

From the opposite side of the room, Varian uncrossed his tall, synthetic boots and stood. He tapped his earnub. “It’s fine,” he told them. “Be right there.” He waved a hand over the sensors, and the prism room shimmered into stasis, storing the image and memory of Prometheus for another day. It was easy to get absorbed by the past, and he welcomed the distraction. Was it enough to quell the longing in his soul? No, but it was all he had. Since reverse engineering Demanitus’ Prism Room and selling the blueprints, he’d been responsible for a lot of Recollection Addictions. Seemed like his inventions always toed an ethical line.

Varian stepped out of the room and into an adjacent metal-walled hallway. The door swung slowly closed on hydraulic hinges. He shoved hands into the pockets of his powder blue polyester jacket and stepped into an elevator. Bright light cascaded down on him as he leaned forward, allowing the optical scanner to do its job, flashing a light side to side. The control panel lit up green. He punched the button to the top floor. Long ago, he’d changed the circle and dashes of the Dark Brotherhood sigil to a gear emitting three bolts of lightning – the Brotherhood of Light. That symbol adorned the back of his jacket. A collection of flash drives dangled on chains around his neck, always there if he needed to work on a project. Though his immortal body rejected now-common cybernetic implants, he could still change his hair, which was currently shaved on the sides, the middle swept into a short mohawk. A pair of wide view goggles hung around his neck.

The last few centuries had been tremendous, Donella’s impatience his boon. Varian recalled seeing his first film at the World’s Fair, crying while watching in a crowded amphitheater. It was just some dumb horse running, but still beautiful. He’d seen bombs fall, an ending to all world wars, and witnessed a man stand on the surface of the moon. This was the bittersweet era he’d longed for, science outpacing itself, a global race for the newest technological advances.

Donella had been wrong though, and Varian allowed a small smile at the thought. The age of alchemy didn’t end – he himself had repurposed the craft. No longer a backroom practice for freaks and heretics, magic stood at the forefront of technology, unleashing a new frontier. The disassembly of Star Bloom Mountain, completed at the end of the last century, provided an immeasurable amount of mystical energy that the world could draw from for eons. What had once been a Sundrop and Moonstone had metastasized in Koto, two power sources feeding each other, becoming stronger and more adaptable to their environment. The peak, once milled into thousands of shards, fueled every major science station in every town across the world. Medical facilities used them to generate full-body scans that could detect and treat almost any illness. They powered vehicles, generator fields, greenhouses, satellites, manufacturing plants, mines, and sonic travel – not quite teleportation, but darn close. All thanks to Donella’s theory and Varian’s tenacity.

The elevator opened, and a gusty breeze washed over Varian. The University of Transcendent Technologies in Berlin granted Varian access to the facility’s full campus, staff, teachings, and equipment. He’d founded UTT and might as well reap the benefits. This wing was entirely dedicated to a project called Homecoming. Housed in an enormous, sealed chamber sat his most recent recreation of Demanitus’ transdimensional portal. Two vats, each taller than a man, sat on either side of it, shatter-proof plexiglass containers filled to bursting with reserve energy, one shining with gold light, the other with blue.

Phosphorescent SunVines wrapped the circular gate that sat atop the machine. MoonShards chipped from Star Bloom Mountain ringed the floor in a summoning circle. Gears meant to keep the portal’s gate in perpetual operation ground hard enough to shoot gold arcs clear to the ceiling, which already bore a coating of black scorch marks. The ring of MoonShards pulsed in angry blue beats. Each misfire in the system sent a gust of wind careening through the room, shades of the weather pattern that tormented Koto for so long.

Two of his cousins, nearly a dozen times removed, worked at the bank of control systems and monitoring devices on either side of the room. Both wore the same emblem on their jackets as Varian did, along with the same type of goggles. Three dashes, three in the order of the Brotherhood of Light, as there had been since its inception. Varian’s first assistants had been Wells, his best friend for eighty years, and Jules, whose humor made the Industrial Revolution a truly joyous occasion. Presently, he was aided by Huxley, who sported Kotoan features with dark skin and tight coils of red hair, and Clarke, who had the pale skin and freckles of both his royal Corona ancestors and Varian’s first cousins.

“What’s the issue now?” Varian asked, hands on his hips. Though immeasurably powerful, Sundrop and Moonstone energy hated being used together, forced into coexistence by technology. The two elements fought like cats and dogs.

“Territorial dispute,” said Clarke, waving an instrument with a gauge over the circle in the floor. “SunSap is traveling down the gate, encroaching on Moonstone radius. The Stones are trying to shove the Sap out of the system, causing an imbalance.”

Over by the monitors, Huxley reminded, “Imbalance is what these elements strive for, cousin.” They flipped a series of switches and pulled a lever down. The lights on the portal went out. “It’s their purpose. All this? We’re the problem.”

Clarke lowered his gear and gave a Varian a sympathetic shrug. “Guess it won’t be today.”

Varian sighed, numb to the letdown. “We’ll see.” He took a pen and notepad out of his pocket, the old kind with paper pages, not the digital devices people used nowadays. He couldn’t risk that the text wouldn’t transfer to where he needed it to go. Troubles on this end, he wrote. Will update. He clicked the pen to retract the cartridge and returned both to his jacket. Frowning, he spun his gold band in thought.

After centuries of patents and progress, Hugo risked becoming more of a concept than a person. Prism rooms kept memories alive, but Varian knew they were a poor substitute. They still needed Hugo’s assistance from inside the Library’s realm. Varian held faith that Hugo was still trying to open the portal on his end. He’d fought free of The Black Kingdom to be with Varian. Hugo wouldn’t give up. Just because the odds were improbable didn’t make them impossible. But it did make things time-consuming and frustrating.

The Library could have heralded a quick jump to advancements, but humanity had to do it on their own. Digitalized books, live news, informational search algorithms, and instant social connections had all come in time. Over the last two centuries, Varian had watched and heralded the most wondrous advancements. He’d have barely seen any of it if not for the split decision to join Hugo’s fate.  

Varian approached the instrument panel – a digital touchscreen to control all mechanical components, and analog switches and levers to manipulate the magical elements. The transdimensional gate had seen a hundred different builds, each version a slight variant to improve stability between the SunVines and MoonShards. He checked the reading on the vats.

HOLDING STEADY.

Good. His gaze drifted along the ground. Thick conduits ran diagonally from the gold and blue containers, trailing up each corner of the room before connecting to four ceiling-mounted dimensional disruption cannons aimed at the empty portal. A risky idea, but the full might of the SunVines and MoonShards present could rip the fabric of the Library’s plane apart, shattering the realm and freeing Hugo. An immortal could survive that. Hypothetically. But Hugo would have to hold the doorway open during the collapse.

“Send reserve power to the Moonshards,” Varian said. “Give them a fighting chance against the SunSap.”

His cousins exchanged a worried glance. “That’ll drive all power closer to max,” Huxley mentioned, tapping a reading with their finger.

“But it would still be stable,” Varian argued, eager to see that shimmering portal once more. He could almost hear the scratching sound the Library’s pages made while filling. So much time had passed. Too much time. Thousands of attempts resulting in nothing. “I don’t get up every day intending to give up.”

“I – neither do we, V,” said Clarke, the Brotherhood’s voice of caution. “But we can’t risk the project. Or, ya know, the planet.”

Varian’s eyes swung from one vat of glowing energy to the other. “The elements will let me know when they’ve had enough.”

His assistants nodded to each other, deferring to his experience. Both raised their goggles into place and got to work. The energy in the blue-hued vat flickered, throbbing in time with the MoonShards circling the floor. “Moonshards receiving boost,” Huxley said from the control panel.

“SunVines maintaining status,” said Clarke. “Fields are rising but remain level.”

Varian stared intently at the blank space above the dimensional gate. He pulled his goggles up and slid the notepad free again. “Ignite,” he commanded.

The ring of MoonShards and loops of SunVines gleamed almost too bright to look at. If not for the glare-resistance in their goggle lenses, the order might have been blinded. A gale whipped around the room, tussling their hair.

Gateway is live, Varian wrote. Ready.

The chamber chimed with mounting energy. The space above the gateway remained vacant.

The glow sharply withdrew, leaving the three of them disoriented for a moment. Both elements had only the faintest of light emitting from them. “Both elements have retreated,” Huxley stated. “Huh. Guess they called a truce.”

Power to the gateway never lasted more than a couple of seconds. If Varian’s notes to the Library were delayed… if Hugo read them at all… if Hugo was even still trying….

In the afterimage of blue and yellow, Varian saw spots of green – green eyes holding a dare in them. Why pause when you’re on the brink of a breakthrough?

Varian breath left him in a rush. Stalled, he wrote. Wait. “Call – call them back,” he gasped. “Set them loose. They can take it.”

“You want us to let the elements fight?” Clarke asked. “I don’t know if –”

“They can take it, and so can we!” Varian shouted, whirling. “Everything circles back. Chaos theory. There’s a pattern here!” He shook the notepad at the gate.

Clarke took a step forward, raising a hand. “Um, V? Are you okay?”

“Threes!” Varian shrieked. He let loose a half-laugh, half-scream. Magic worked in threes. Star Bloom Mountain. Rapunzel and Cassandra. The gateway. Each time a Moonstone and SunDrop came in contact, they had to battle to their conclusion to make peace. “This is the third incident. This is supposed to happen. I’ve seen all I have in order to know that the energies eventually equalize. We can’t be afraid.”

“Easy for you to say,” Huxley grumbled. “Some of us aren’t immortal.”

Though overenthusiastic by nature, Varian wasn’t foolhardy. He’d had enough close calls to be respectful of what he worked with and had, several times, given his own flesh and bone to stop a catastrophe. But he always healed and began again. “If I have to pull the plug, I will. I can handle this. Trust me?” The image reflected in his cousins’ goggles was that of an older version of himself, in spirit if not body, confident and tested, a worthy leader.

Both Clarke and Huxley nodded. “Course, V.” “With you, man.” They went to their positions, readying the safeties, energy outputs, and directional flow for full power.

“On my mark,” Varian called. He pressed the notepad to his chest and took a deep inhale. The chamber seemed vast and yawning, filled with equipment yet devoid of consequence, just toys to keep him busy for eons should he continuously fail. Second attempt going live, he wrote. He released his breath. “Ignite.”

Science lessened its grasp on controlling the celestial properties of Sun and Moon. The energy chime deepened to a thrum. SunVines extended healthy growth downward, tendrils stopping just short of the floor, teasing the MoonShards. The MoonShards crackled in their settings and caused a rubble underfoot. Gold and blue flashed fast and fierce. The wind rose in intensity, tightening into a cone above the platform.

Varian watched the gateway. “Clarke?”

“Shards are mad.”

“Huxley?”                              

“The Vines are sassy today.”

The energy and wind retreated, plunging the chamber into standby lighting. Varian made a frustrated sound deep in his chest. Pausing. Stand by, he wrote. Magic was in threes. He swung to face his assistants. “Once more.”

“Varian, that’s twice now,” Clarke objected. “The gate is strained –”

“Once more,” Varian insisted, tension evident in his tone. Clarke nodded.

“Hold on to your butts,” Huxley said, throwing a few extra switches.

Third attempt activating, Varian wrote. I’m ready. If the gateway didn’t connect now, it never would, and he’d have to redesign it. “C’mon, Hugo,” he growled, squeezing his eyes closed for an instant. “Sync up.”

Opposing lights filled the chamber once again as the elements came to life. The wind gust swirled, pulling itself into a vortex that hovered ominously over the gate. A drop of SunSap hit the floor. MoonShards flared, and the SunVines responded in kind. Everything was a blinding kaleidoscope of energy forks and afterimages.

A circular portal burst into existence above the gate, a rainbow shooting from the whole of its center. Although it was just light, all three Brotherhood members instinctively ducked in surprise. The spectral onslaught ceased, and the colors retreated into the portal. The surface glimmered like water. Roaring wind cut to nothing. The MoonShards and SunVines stopped firing at each other, as if cowed by the higher presence of the portal. The Vines recoiled, and the ground stopped shaking.

Within the shimmering ring, a figure approached. The portal formed a halo of light around Hugo, just like in Varian’s dream from long ago. His hair was still stark white, and back in that high braid along his crown that Varian liked. He pressed a hand against the doorway and the gold band he wore gave a faint gleam. He seemed surprised by the Homecoming chamber, mouth opening slightly, but slammed he it shut when he spotted Varian.

For a few moments, time was flat with no beginning or end. There was no then, no dream of the future, no space between, just an ever encompassing feeling of solidarity that stole Varian’s breath. Hugo looked exactly the same, as if all their time apart had been imagined. Honestly, he’d expected to toil for a thousand years without victory, only to spend a thousand more doing the same. Donella’s insistence on using magic as energy was the only reason they had the transcendental tech to even try this.

Varian ran to the portal, yanking his goggles down. He lifted a hand towards the threshold and froze. He stepped back, unable to risk an accidental touch. “Hey,” he said in a shaky voice. “We’re gonna get you out. Hold tight.” With no idea if Hugo could hear him, he brought his hands up, digits spread, then formed tight fists. “You hang in there. Don’t you dare let go,” he added, waggling a finger.  

“It… worked!” Clarke gasped. “I mean, it was going to work eventually, but I didn’t think we’d be the ones–”

“Breathe, Cuz,” Huxley said in their composed, assured way. “We had this, no sweat.”

“Phase two!” Varian shouted at them. “Send reserves to the cannons!”

Huxley triggered the vat of golden energy, Clarke the blue. “Sending!” they called.

The cables running up the walls hummed as energy shot through them, charging the dimensional disruption cannons that hung in all four corners of the chamber. Boy, Varian had to hope Hugo wasn’t spooked into letting go of the portal connection. Once was miracle enough. He didn’t dare assume there’d be another chance. Putting faith in Hugo’s gumption, Varian ordered, “Lock on!”

“Locking on!”

“Locked on!”

Each tank emptied of power and color, and high whines spilled from the cannons. Varian pinned Hugo with his eyes, and mouthed, I love you. Hugo blinked and did the same. If there was an instant for everything to go wrong, this was it. Varian steeled himself. “Fire.”

Rays from the cannons pierced the portal like needles, lances of gold surrounded by crackles of blue. Varian squinted, seeing the same patterns in the false sky of the Library’s plane behind Hugo. To his credit, Hugo stayed put, although he did drop his hand. The portal shattered, dissolving into fine particles that shimmered like stardust, obliterating the final stage of Demanitus’ most arduous puzzle.

Freed from his confines, Hugo dropped onto the gate platform, arcs of gold and blue dancing along his body like static. “Hugo!” Varian cried, breaking into a run.

Hugo rolled onto his side, rubbing a knee. His hair remained magically white. “Man. Mind that first step.”

Varian didn’t pause in his stride, plowing into Hugo and scooping him up. The tackle sent them both rolling off the back of the platform. “You wouldn’t believe what you’ve missed!” Varian shouted. “Airplanes! Cars – they’re like electric carriages. Penicillin. Telephones. Nuclear fission. Tons – in metric units! – of MoonShards and SunSap, shipped all over the world, powering almost everything. And, oh man, wait ‘til you hear about the moon!"

“Blue,” Hugo chuckled, pinned on his back. “I know about the moon. I know about all those things.”

“You – you do?”

“Well, I did have copious amounts of reading material.” His hand rose to cup Varian’s cheek. “Including a few volumes written in shorthand by this guy I love. Wrote me all day and night.”

Varian put his hand over Hugo’s, pressing closer. “Sorry it took me so long.”

A gleam of wetness made Hugo’s eyes shine as he pushed himself up into sitting. “I saw you. I saw you every day.”

“You did? How?”

“Wasn’t hard to find Demanitus’ notes on the Prism Room. It was an easy build considering I can make anything out of nothing.” A whimsical smile cut across his face. “Got to experience all those nights in the hold on Prometheus.”

“Prometh –” Varian choked and couldn’t continue. Tears filled his eyes. They’d been reliving the same memories.

“Varian!” Clarke called from the other side of the platform. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Varian yelled back. “Good. Great!”

Huxley asked, “Did we get him?”

Letting Hugo up, Varian rose alongside him, still grasping his hand. “We got him.”

“Cool. Hey, what was it like in –”

“Huxley, don’t bug them.”

“Oh. Right. We’ll be here when you’re ready to recap!”

Varian ushered Hugo around the sizable gateway platform, past his team, and towards the elevator. “Will do. Thanks, guys.” Hugo was a little hesitant to board the unfamiliar lift. Varian tugged him in and used the optical scan to take him to the appropriate floor.

“Friends of yours?” Hugo asked as the door closed.

“Family.”

As they rode, Hugo placed a palm against the wall of the elevator, likely feeling the vibrations. “Heh. Of course you’d still be surrounded by family. Everything changed in the world. Everything except you.”

“I changed a little,” Varian said, thinking about the world’s wars and how close humanity had drifted to devastation. Such was the cycle, great prosperity followed by great unrest. But the good outweighed the bad, and when he went to sleep at night, he thought of the beauty in the world, of how blessed he was to spend each day pursuing science and discovery and dreaming of a day when he’d hold Hugo’s hand again. He squeezed Hugo’s fingers. “You read about everything, but you didn’t see it?”

Hugo lifted a shoulder. “That’s the thing about books. Pages are flat and still. Lot’o diagrams, though.”

“Well, that’s not good enough.”

They reached Varian’s private wing of the university – his living quarters, personal lab, and adjoining Prism Room. He pictured a memory and the Prism Room accommodated, its tiny, mirrored surfaces turning to bend light and recreate his selection. It was time to get Hugo caught up. The smell of popcorn and peanuts filled the air. People chattered indistinctly as the lights dimmed. Varian tugged Hugo down to take a seat on the floor. “Blue, what is th –”

“Shh,” Varian said, pulling Hugo against him and placing his head on his shoulder. “Watch with me.” Hugo settled, letting Varian take charge. Just like that, he was back at the World’s Fair, watching the world’s first film. Varian couldn’t recreate everything Hugo’d missed out on, but he could hit the high points.

He was certain they’d both changed just enough to cherish falling in love all over again. They were certain to grow and change even more, choosing to embrace each new discovery in both the world and their own relationship. Science and technology were always evolving, never stagnant, and held so much to do and see. They’d choose their life, day after day, to be with each other, to watch the world, and to do their best to impact it for the better. And if, or when, eternity became too much, they’d figure a way out of it. Plenty of immortal beings, even gods, eventually met their end.

“Hey, Blue,” Hugo said, an arm around Varian’s waist, squeezing him tight in the false setting of a darkened theater. The short film looped, and the horse began its gallop once more. “Betcha I know some things you don’t. The Library held some pretty obscure titles.”

Varian picked his head up, smirking. “I’ll bet you do. I’m an adequate scholar.”

“You pumped to test some theories?” Mischief rode Hugo’s gaze.

“Definitely.” His fingers traced Hugo’s jaw. “And we’ve got plenty of time to perfect results.”

“Bring it.”

Their kiss felt electric, the conclusion of a promise, worth all the stress and strife they’d gone through. For the first time in Varian’s life, he was secure in where he was, no looming tasks or disasters to clean up. Just wide-open future, his family at his back and his lover by his side. And that was pretty magical.