Determination flowed through me.
I needed answers.
We needed answers.
I handed the copper coins we got from the Sylphy at the coffee shop to the satyr porter. His fingers counted them out with a dexterity that spoke of years working the portals.
"Are we really going to do this?" Jake's voice wavered, betraying his uncertainty as he cast a lingering glance back at the shimmering portal.
"Why not?" I waved my hands exasperatedly, looking from Jake to Julie. Her small hand was wrapped tightly around Jake's white knuckles, making sure he didn't disappear.
Jake's brow furrowed, the lines etched there a map of his inner turmoil. "We need to figure out our history. But is this really the best way?" His gaze dropped to Julie. "We also need to figure out how to help Julie. She's the reason we came here. Our...drama... whatever you want to classify it as...is not a priority..." he added, his voice softening.
The satyr porter cleared his throat and interrupted our moment of hesitation. "That was 150 coppers. Buying a portal pass would be beneficial if you bounce back and forth a lot, notwithstanding whatever family drama you're dealing with. I would appreciate the commission if you're interested." His tone held the blandness and callousness of one who'd witnessed too many farewells, his interest only piqued by potential earnings.
I shot a glare at the satyr, annoyance flaring briefly before I turned back to my cousins. Jake's face was a canvas of doubt, his eyes reflecting the internal debate raging within. Glancing at Julie, her gaze, flitting between the portal and us, was a mix of fear and resolve.
"Julie," I said, my voice matching Jake. "What do you think?" I watched her closely, trying to read the rapid play of emotions across her features.
Her grip on Jake's arm tightened further, "I think we should go," she whispered, so faint I had to strain to catch the words. "I want to find out about you two. And I want to know what's going on with my magic..." she trailed off.
Seizing the barely moving momentum, I made the decision. "Two to one," I announced, grabbing Jake's arm with more assurance than I felt. "Let's go."
Julie nodded and joined me in tugging forward, urging Jake's reluctant feet to move.
"Final call, portal clearing in 15 seconds!" the sayter porter called out, pushing me to hurry. I tightened my grip on Jake's arm as we stepped into the shimmering portal.
I will never get used to stepping into what looks like glass.
The portal's embrace released us into the "grandeur" of the transit station, a poor copy of the capital's station, with a vibrant scent of lavender in the air. I glanced through the window and and noticed the ceiling—or rather, the illusion of an open sky, painted a striking blue just a little bit off natural. The real thing seemed prettier somehow. Wispy clouds drifted lazily across this artificial firmament, their movements synchronized with a breeze I could not feel.
The station was alive with the hustle of several species. Beings of all sizes and shapes mingled, their steps and voices melding into a cacophony of daily life. Elfin figures glided, burly dwarves stomped, while centaurs weaved their way elegantly through the crowds, their hooves clicking against the stone floor like a rhythmic beat commanding the pace of the station. Everything seemed normal.
Columns of polished marble rose up at the corners of the space, their surfaces reflecting the ambient sorcery light that bathed the station in a warm glow. Above the ceiling was a mosaic of wooden planks sourced from the diverse home realms. Each plank had the unique grain and hue of its origin, interlocking in a seemingly random yet harmoniously blended pattern. No two pieces were the same. The wooden tapestry gave the impression of a world connected.
To one side, a line of parcels sat atop hand carts, each labeled with meticulously penned runes that shimmered faintly. The carts were stationed haphazardly but an inch beyond the lines where they were meant to be.
On the opposite side of the station, a series of chairs were arranged in neat rows, some occupied by travelers or greeters. The seating area was a study in contrasts—plush velvets next to utilitarian wooden benches. It was disgusting to me the distinctions. But the good thing about my home realm was the rejection of the classes. The posh seats were covered in dust on purpose.
Straight ahead, the porter's desk stood, its surface polished to a high shine. Behind it, the station master, a stately minotaur with a pair of thin-rimmed glasses perched precariously on his snout, surveyed his domain with an air of unflappable authority, standing behind a pair of dryad clerks.
"Whoa," Jake whispered, I glanced at him, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Clear the portal for disconnect!" the porter yelled at us from the side of the room, breaking our trance.
"Come on," I said, pulling Jake and Julie towards the seating area. As we moved away from the portal, I noticed that Julie looked pale, her face drained of color. "Are you okay, Julie?" Jake asked before I could, concern evident in his voice.
"Y-yeah," she mumbled, her eyes unfocused. "I'm just dizzy. It feels like my blood is hot and cold at the same time..."
"Does it hurt?" I asked, my heart racing with worry. She shouldn't have such an extreme reaction.
Julie shook her head. "No, I'm just dizzy. It's slowly getting better."
I breathed a sigh of relief but remained cautious. It was not normal to feel extremely disoriented after crossing the portal.
A piercing greeting sliced through the station's clamor, skewing the air and jarring my mood. "Oh John, I thought you'd departed a week past? All well?"
My hands balled into fists, the unwelcome familiarity of Mr. Tax Weavelin's voice scraping at my composure. The deputy of the realm and a close friend and confidant of my father's materialized behind me. I swiveled, subjecting my expression to forced neutrality—a flimsy veil over my roiling dread. Hopefully, it was enough.
"Mr. Weavelin," I began each syllable carefully sculpted. "These are my cousins, eager for a glimpse of where I grew up." My gaze met his deliberately as I spoke, confronting the array of eyes that blinked out of sync.
"Ah, yes. That makes sense. Well, just make sure to get them registered. Have a pleasant day," he intoned, his attention already drifting past us as if we were little more than fixtures in his peripheral vision.
"Will do, sir," I managed, my smile fragile, on the verge of fracturing. He meandered off, his many legs carrying him with a nonchalance that was not fitting to the tension he left in his wake. Would he cross paths with my father today, I wondered. The thought left a stone in my stomach.
Julie's gasp snagged my attention. She seemed to have encountered her worst nightmare, her fingers pressed to her lips to stifle her shock. Jake stood rigid beside her, his fists clenched in silent solidarity, his expression a mix of anger and fear.
"Are you two alright?" My voice was laced with bewilderment and concern.
They gave me half-hearted nods, their gazes ensnared by Mr. Weavelin's retreating form. As he wove lazily through the crowd, they remained silent. Maybe they were worried about being recognized as well.
"We should see to the registration," I suggested more forcefully, attempting to anchor them back to the present reality. "Then we can go to my place for some privacy."
Their acknowledgment came slowly.
Jake and Julie rose at my invitation. Jake instinctively positioned Julie between himself and me as we made our way toward the registration desk. Jake's arm was a steadfast shield around Julie's shoulders, his jaw set and tight. He reminded me of Jax and Apollo on guard duty back in the non-magical realm.
"Hey," I said softly, probing the silence. "You two good?"
Jake's response was a low hum. "Yeah, John," he replied. "It's just... that deputy...the spider guy... Mr. Weavelin, with all his eyes..."
The knot in my own stomach tightened echoes of my fears resurfacing. The idea of Mr. Weavelin as a conduit to my father was a chill I couldn't shake off. I forced a nod, feigning a confidence I was far from feeling. "Yeah. Let's just hope he's not in a gossip mood and doesn't go to talk to dad..." I added.
Julie lifted her head, her gaze swimming in the aftermath of shed tears, her skin a stark canvas against the vibrant hues of the market. "The portal... it was like being caught in a storm without the rain," she admitted. "And that... creature... his many-legged presence just made it worse."
I recalled the lectures on portal travel and the warnings of disorientation. I never really experienced it to such an extent, which made Julie's reaction all the more alarming to me. What was different for her?
The registration desk was deserted as we approached, a stroke of luck. The dryad who manned it had bark-like skin that seemed to pulse with magic, and her hair was a cascade of vibrant leaves that rustled with her every movement. She looked at us, her eyes the deep green of old moss, scrutinizing us like we were intruders.
I suppressed a sigh. It would've been less tense if she was one of the dryads I knew, but Thistle Grove was not that tiny.
"Passports," she demanded, her voice cold and unyielding. I handed them over with a tense smile. She thumbed through the pages with a practiced rustle, pausing when she reached Julie's. The leaves of her hair bristled, a whisper of irritation that sent a shiver down my spine. "A minor without her guardians," she noted, a flicker of suspicion in her gaze as it darted between Jake and me.
Heat crept up my neck, the weight of her gaze heavier than the stale air of Thistle Grove. Hastily, I presented Aunt Freya's letter, the seal shimmering slightly as the paper moved. "My apologies, the authorization letter."
She regarded us silently for a moment longer than comfortable, and then her attention shifted to the letter. As her eyes moved over the words, the forest that was her hair calmed, settling into a serene stillness. "The seal is authentic," she acknowledged, her wand casting a glow over our passports, sealing our entry. With a tight smile, she handed the documents back and said, "Welcome to Thistle Grove. Enjoy your stay." Eyeing Jake, she added, "Be careful and don't cause trouble."
"Thank you, ma'am," Julie said, eyes wide with awe. "Your hair... it's like nature's crown, so beautiful."
The dryad's stern facade melted into a warm, earthy smile. "You, child, carry the freshness of dawn within you. What a delightful little sweet pea you are," she remarked, a hint of maternal warmth in her voice. She rested her face on her hand, hair cascading on her desk, staring at Julie.
As we walked away, I couldn't help but feel the gnarling of anxiety within me. Our encounter with Mr. Weavelin had sown seeds of unease that took root with every step. I had to come up with something before he reached out to my father with news of my return. The clock was ticking.
I led Jake and Julie through the winding, lazy streets of Thistle Grove; we left the marketplace's din for the hush of residential whispers. The cobblestone paths here were intimate, worn smooth by centuries of quiet lives passing by. The original stones, perhaps, were laid down when this realm was first shaped from magic and will.
Houses stood shoulder to shoulder, their pastel facades, wooden beams, and stonework siding exuding charm and closeness. Here, every sliver of space was a treasure, and the gardens, basking in ceaseless light, capitalized on every inch—no shadows to mar their growth.
The constant rhythm of Thistle Grove life was nice and slow, a beat set to the cycle of magical "days" and "nights."
"Are those trees... dancing?" Julie's voice, filled with childlike amazement, reminded me there was still magic to be found in the familiar.
"They're magical flora. Many magic plants are attuned to the mana and even have special cells or organs that are affected by mana. A few magic plants even use that to hunt," I said, watching her eyes widen with the magic that, for me, had dulled to the ordinary. It made me smile.
Her awe distracted me for a moment but didn't do anything to dispel the dark thoughts brewing in my brain. I glanced at Jake, and the Witch Doctors' words of us being twins floated to the surface again. We did look similar, but twins? Really?
It was Jake's concerned tone that pulled me back. "You've gone quiet. What's on your mind?"
I dodged with humor. "Just prepping for the parental inquisition," I said, the words feeling like stones in my mouth.
Julie's searching gaze found mine. "There's more, isn't there?"
I mustered a grin. "Cross my heart, we're good."
Yet, the familiar red bricks of my home loomed before us, calling me a liar. My pulse quickened with every step through the front garden.
A hollow thud resonated as my knuckles met the wood, the echo a stark contrast to the hush of anticipation. I held my breath, each second elongating as I willed the silence to linger. When my prayer was answered with silence, I summoned my wand and crafted the family sigil, channeling magic through it into the lock. It clicked open loudly, and I stepped back, inviting Jake and Julie into the embrace of my childhood.
"Welcome to my home," I offered the warmth in my words a veneer over my churning thoughts.
The foyer opened into the living room, and Julie's wonderment dusted the space with a charm, bringing me a brief smile. "It's as magnificent as I remember," she said, a tapestry of memories reflecting in her eyes.
"Were you seven... or eight last time you visited?" I asked. I recalled not being there when she visited with her parents.
"Nine," she corrected with a sunlit smile.
We sank into the couches, the familiarity of the room wrapping around us, yet the air was thick with unvoiced questions. Jake and Julie shared a couch with me across from them. Their closeness was both a comfort and a reminder of the distance I felt.
"Now what?" The synchrony of our confusion was a surprise, sparking laughter. The light moment evaporated quickly as the seriousness settled back in.
Julie, ever the instigator, gestured to Jake and me. "Do we start with the riddle of your twinship?"
I felt my face contort at the words. I couldn't confront that mystery. Not yet. "Let's focus on your magic," I deflected, my voice firm but kind.
"But why?" Julie pressed, a frown creasing her brow.
Jake tousled her hair affectionately. "Because we need to. Because you didn't want to talk to mom and dad. And because that's why we snuck to the witch doctor. And because you are dangerous. Your magic's a wild card right now."
She swiped at his hand, a mock glare on her face. "Fine. But where do we start?" She said, fixing her hair.
Jake shrugged. Their gazes turned to me, expectant.
I sighed. "Books, I guess. That would be the first place to look. Tutors might be able to help you get it under control. We'll begin with the basics and build from there. We just need to figure it out before my parents get home."
Her enthusiasm peeked up again. "Then, after I've got a handle on this magic, we address our...connection?" Her hands motioned between herself, Jake, and me.
"One step at a time," I insisted.
Jake's reassuring hand on Julie's shoulder was a silent declaration of their sibling bond. I felt the sting of envy but quashed it swiftly. This moment was for unity. My own yearnings for that connection would have to wait, sequestered in the shadows of my heart for another day.
In the quiet that settled among us, I caught Jake's gaze drifting between the room and us, finally settling on an old family portrait. The image, frozen in time, seemed to magnetically attract his attention.
"Jake?" I probed gently, a note of worry coloring my tone. "What's going through your head?"
His focus remained locked on the photograph, eyes glistening. "I can't help but wonder," he murmured, the words barely above a breath, "what life would have been like growing up here with you. Why was I the one to leave? Why would your parents give me up? Is that even true?"
Julie's arms encircled him, a silent show of support and a plea for Jake not to depart from her life. I was at a loss, words failing me, but I knew I had to offer some thread of hope. "Whatever their reasons, we'll figure it out together," I assured him, the tone of my voice betraying the doubt I felt in my heart.
The solemn atmosphere was punctured by the unapologetic grumble of Julie's stomach, drawing laughter from Jake and me. We looked at Julie's blushing face.
"Seems someone's peckish," I quipped, the mirth in my voice chasing away the somber mood. "Kitchen raid, anyone?"
Jake's hand playfully ruffled Julie's hair as he joined in the teasing. "You'd think she'd have learned to summon snacks by now with that appetite of hers."
Julie feigned annoyance, which led to a harmless tussle, their laughter jingling through the room, lightening the air.
"I'll go fix us something. You guys coming?" I pushed off the couch. We still didn't have a solution, but we knew our priority.
Julie ceased her playful swatting at Jake and hopped to her feet, determined. "Starving. I'm in."
Jake followed suit with a nod, his eyes glancing at the portrait again. "Yeah, food sounds good."
In the kitchen, I gathered the essentials for sandwiches. Julie's curiosity was piqued by the fridge's lack of chill. "I thought fridges were cold?"
"It's a stasis field," I explained as I assembled the sandwiches. "Keeps everything fresh indefinitely. Better than just cold."
Jake leaned against the counter, nibbling on his sandwich, his facade of normalcy slipping, and he had to blink the sadness away. I could see the strain behind his casual demeanor.
As we munched in silence, the nagging questions made me consider Dad's library to try to find info about Julie's condition...
A chorus of barks shattered the moment, a three-headed warning that sent a jolt through me. I locked eyes with Jake and Julie. I was about to warn them when the front door swung open, and my father's Cerberus familiar barreled into the room, its triplet gazes dissecting the scene—one head for each of us.
The heads facing Jake and Julie rumbled a low growl, but the one examining me seemed more puzzled than fierce. Julie's eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and fascination, oblivious to the danger. "You're magnificent," she breathed out.
Jake, ever the cautious one, raised his hands defensively, his face losing color as he assessed our options. He shuffled a bit in front of Julie.
My attention snapped to the doorway where my dad stood, his wand alight with a preemptive spell, the crimson glow painting his features in dark contrast. Our eyes met, and I tried to find my voice, saying, "It's okay, Dad. It's just me...us."