Page 11

Seeing the copied spells from Professor Jenkelstrum was intensely inspiring.

The fact that Atlas was just as excited as her brought her to a new depth of magical appreciation.

J’s spell book was not available at the Grand Library and Harlow could tell why.

Well, other than Atlas also commenting about how much of a hermit this professor specifically was.

There was also a rumor they didn’t turn in spellwork often so that they could never ascend to the title of Spellsaven.

This way they could avoid having a required apprentice.

Within the pages were several simple spells: threading a needle, fixing flyaway hairs (which was even more interesting considering Professor J was Dragonkin so he didn’t have hair), and even a quick prevention spell to keep blisters forming on the back of your heel when breaking in new shoes.

But there were also things that were WONDROUS.

This professor had theories that Dragonkin originally existed on a different plane of existence altogether, and not only that, but that they experienced time in a non-linear fashion.

Perhaps this was where Atlas had gotten the idea for the relic in the first place.

Personally, she wanted to make her own copy but there was something about the secrecy of it, the personal nature of the professor’s musing in the margins, that kept her from it.

As far as she knew, the professor was still alive and well.

If she wanted to copy the spells for study, Harlow felt she should have to earn it directly through him and not Spellsaven Daggerroot.

Atlas did not comment on her lack of note taking.

She didn’t have an interest in messing with anything to do with time.

She was haunted enough by the relic’s existence and that was more than enough for Harlow.

But it did make her crave to work on her own projects in between the Spellsaven’s challenges.

Today, particularly, she had woken up early, swept out her workspace (which it desperately needed) by hand thanks to Bethal teaching her the value of doing things by hand, and gathered various locks stashed in a crate in one of House’s storerooms.

The state of the room was so abysmal that she spent a whole hour there just managing a path from the door to the shelf.

There were other interesting reagents and tools like an unspillable decanter (which thank gods it was, or Harlow would have been soaked in rusty rainwater.

How that rainwater got there, she would never know), dried mushrooms from the other side of the continent, and a whole pile of compounded coal used for summoning.

When Harlow reentered her workspace, she gained a new appreciation for it.

Lacy curtains hung over one rod that extended the length of both windows.

Although not ideal for direct light, they did diffuse enough that even when the sun first spilled inside, it became a warm glow upon the floor.

Her furniture there was as mismatched as the rest of the house but most of the fabric was in various shades of green.

Her favorite chair had a faded pattern that felt like leaves but after a thorough cleaning was revealed to be several different hands.

Only slightly creepy in retrospect.

But her workbench was large and sturdy.

She wasn’t sure what wood it was originally carved of, but it reminded her of the same wood of House’s staircases and that gave her comfort.

Initially when she went into this room, it made her upset as the staircases were constantly elusive, but now, with her mended friendship with Daggerroot Manor, it just meant stability.

Harlow hung her wizard robes on the corner of the one pair of oak bookshelves in the room.

In front of her she arranged various bowls of needed reagents and spell ingredients.

Set upon a thick sheet of reinforced velvet was a singular lock.

It looked more or less like any other lock; gentle divots from its smithing and the core were intact although it looked as if it had seen better days.

It appeared to be a bit eroded, and it smelled of fish.

She could assume it was a lock from a ship or from a coastal cove, but the sand which fell from the inner core poured out black – she realized she could assume nothing.

There were no black sand beaches anywhere on this continent.

She didn’t even know on what continent there would be.

She had an itch to go down that rabbit hole, to find out more about this sand specifically.

Her first test was to take a few grains and see if they were flammable.

Thankfully they weren’t so she ruled out spark powder.

If this was how excited she got over a random lock in a supply closet, what kind of intrigue awaited her in the vault? Perhaps, if she could tweak her studies enough, she could convince Atlas to let her go in and look for one… or several.

Harlow cracked open her stiff, heavy bound sketchbook and clamped it open.

She spent the next few hours making her best attempt at replicating the image of the lock on one page; on the other, her previous observations.

She had detected magic on it back in the storeroom, but she wasn’t able to figure out which class.

Which made the lock perfect for her.

There was no one around.

Not even Atlas here to check on her, to question her apprentice duties.

No Guild Master to ask why she wasn’t in the vault yet.

It was just her and a lock.

Finally, something that she could do, something she could use her skills as a thief and magical knowledge for.

Something that she considered fun.

Fun that didn’t need another person to witness, fun that didn’t need to be approved or facilitated by another.

Just something Harlow genuinely enjoyed, a moment of something that was only for her.

Several beginner-based unlocking spells were completely ineffective.

Her already learned personal concoction would be a shoo-in but Harlow wanted to find out ways that could be more sustainable.

It would be like summoning gale force winds just to cool your food. Overkill.

Hours had passed and she could feel it in her lower back.

Perfect consistent posture was a virtue she didn’t have.

She had gone through several locks now and had successfully proceeded without needing to dip into the dwindling tube of kraken blood in her robes.

Jellyfish toxin seemed to help a great deal but her real goal was to leave all animal-based reagents out of it.

For some reason, a lemon mint crushed with a single shaving of triton root was showing promise.

She adjusted the ratio just slightly and on the first pass, her last lock she grabbed from the storeroom popped open.

There was a wet sucking sound when it was released.

It was not a pleasing sound and Harlow would have to find a way to make no sound if she wanted this spell to be practical for fellow rogues.

“Wow, that was a good one!”

Harlow startled and sat up quickly in her chair, dropping the paintbrush she used to coat the lock. It rolled along the desk and fell to the floor with a splat.

Atlas was sitting on a matchstick of a chair near the door. They were leaned back with a leg over their knee and a teacup balancing on that. The Spellsaven had wrapped their hair up in a neat… okay, rather messy, pile on their head and had it pinned with what looked like a random dried-out smooth branch. They had on pink fluffy house slippers, loose beige linen pants that tied at the shins, and a black loose tunic that was as see-through as cheesecloth. Their usual highly patterned robes were nowhere to be seen.

“How long have you been spying on me?”

Harlow cast them a faux-heated look.

“Mmm, for a few hours now. The door was open though!”

They pointed over their shoulder quickly as if to direct her fake anger towards it and not them.

She did remember leaving it open and she rolled her eyes playfully. “Well fine, if that’s all it takes for your attention, then I’ll have to keep it in mind.”

Atlas’s eyebrows shot up and they leaned forward, ignoring the clinking of the teacup and teaspoon on their knee. “See that you do.”

Harlow blushed before remembering to jot down her success in the journal before her. As she scribbled away, Atlas stood and set the teacup in the doorway. (It was whisked away, whether Atlas approved or not, by House.) They bent over to retrieve her brush and placed it delicately on the tabletop, careful not to displace anything else. With a wave of their fingers, the spill left on the floor was no longer and they towered behind her, looking at her sketchbook.

“This is really incredible work; how long have you been working on this?”

Atlas sounded generally impressed as they squinted to read more of her handwriting.

It had only been a few months and even the Spellsaven was aware that was not enough time to develop what she had in this practice.

“I started… oh gosh, it’s got to be three years now?”

Harlow was slightly embarrassed by the professional awareness of her mentor but also it felt extremely rewarding to be recognized.

Lock picking via magical spells wasn’t new. It was arguably one of the oldest tricks in the magical book. But, as wizards expanded their skills, more and more sorcerers were born with magic in their veins, and mages stumbled across questionable magic sources, there were other ways to skin the proverbial grokenfruit. Roguish individuals like herself made up for any gap and thus furthering the craft was left by the wayside.

Atlas began to quickly shift their weight from one foot to the other, like a cat ready to pounce. “Say, would you like a little… challenge?”

There were multiple lines of thinking, or one very distracted one, whisking inside Harlow. Yes! Yes! She wanted a great challenge. Did they have a legendary lock to practice upon? Would it be in the vault? Or was this challenge actually something unrelated to locks and more about her growing ability to find substitutes for reagents? Some “challenges”

imposed by Atlas were ridiculous child-like games centered around concentration and not breaking it no matter the distraction but others were problems very similar to those in the wizarding finals at universities.

She nodded, as opposed to spilling forth a million questions. Atlas took three large steps around her workbench and darted out into the hall. “This way, Apprentice!”

They were practically shouting with excitement.

Harlow broke out into a wide grin. An adventure of sorts, then! She grabbed her robes, flung them on and quickly stuffed what was left of her prepared ingredients into her pockets, being careful not to place them in the same one should that trigger a change in their intensity later.

The apprentice chased after her mentor, who was rather quick today, through the halls of House only to almost crash into them when cutting around a corner. They were stopped in a short hallway in front of a large gilded-framed painting of a black, long-haired cat sitting on top of a castle-shaped chess peace.

Atlas looked solemn and crossed their chest quickly with a flourish of their hands as if saying a prayer for a deity. “So regal, yes?”

Harlow looked them over, careful to pay attention to if this was some changeling copy of Atlas or not. They seemed unaffected by her staring and took a step towards the painting. With a long, lanky arm, they booped the nose of the cat and the painting gained an intense shimmer. The vault entrance – it had changed since their last visit.

She followed and curious if that part was required or not but decided to not risk it, she booped the nose of the princely cat. The vault was still very much the same, entirely filled with odds and ends, weapons, and… wait, was that half a hull of a ship?

“This way!”

Atlas called for her further down an aisle of various cores of wood.

Of course they were not simply at the end of the aisle, there were a few twists and turns to get to them, but after navigating House for so long, it seemed second nature for her that nothing could be straightforward.

She slowed as she met Atlas, who was standing at the wall of the vault. There was one thing confirmed, the vault did have at least one end. But inanimately staring at her was a door. It was simple at first. A white rectangle with a deep brass pull handle. But there was a latch about a foot up from the handle where a padlock hung. It was painted bright blue at one time but now was scuffed in random places, revealing matching brass underneath.

“I present to you, the unpickable lock!”

Atlas leaned against the wall next to it, looking mighty smug with their find.

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Oh, I have no idea.”

“Where does it lead?”

“I have no idea.”

Atlas leaned off the wall and looked around as if someone would hear them. “It just appeared one day and I couldn’t get the lock off myself but you, you might be able to.”

“When did this door appear and why are you saying that so casually as if doors just appear in private vaults for no reason?”

“Because sometimes doors appear in vaults for no reason. Are you telling me you don’t have randomly appearing doors?”

“No, that’s not normal.”

Harlow had to laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“Pff, normal is not normal.”

Atlas dismissed the idea. “So, what do you say, want to take a crack at it?”

“Yes, absolutely I do.”

Harlow laughed, just as giddy now as Atlas with the prospect of this mystery. She shooed them aside and they disappeared down an aisle for a moment only to reappear with a rather sturdy iron end table.

“For your things.”

Atlas gathered her sketchbook and arranged the reagents she handed them in orderly small piles.

Harlow tumbled through the various methods she’d been working on and perfecting that day. But each time, she had to drench the lock in a spell removal liquid and try the next thing. She had one last option and that lay with the kraken blood spellwork.

Hours had passed but Atlas was just as eager as when they started, and that helped her push through. She painted the final rune along the padlock’s core and stuffed the paintbrush above her ear. She murmured her incantation again, and the lock simply opened with a pop.

She reached for the lock and hesitated but Atlas took a step towards her and spoke. “Go ahead, you should be the one to get the first peek.”

She swung open the lock plate and let the padlock dangle aside the frame now and pulled open the door. It was difficult to do at first but with a little more muscle and leverage she managed to pull it open.

On the other side of the door was a wide and impossibly long skyline peppered with dark clouds but blue as any other day. In contrast, before them was an endless beach filled with black sand. Seafoam frothed and gathered on the shore as the waves pulled and pushed.

Together, holding hands, they both stepped through the doorway and carefully to the rocky ledge that the door seemed to be built upon. There was a deep growl in the air that she attributed to the sounds of heavy wind cascading through deep caverns. There must be some nearby. A green-tailed sea warbler landed on the beach. It pecked at an airhole under the sand, looking for clams, she guessed. She and Atlas and laughed their amazement at watching life play out upon the beach.

Then the bird began to squeak and scramble, its wings kicking up black sand as it tried to fly away. In a snap the bird was pulled under the sand and the beach filled the tunnel left by its body. Harlow leaned forward, trying to see better, trying to see what happened, and the paintbrush from behind her ear fell and tumbled to the sand. She hesitated, wanting to grab it, but then a large. sickly pale leech stretched its way from under the paintbrush and the whole beach began to tremble.

Atlas held onto Harlow, who was having trouble keeping her footing on the rocky ledge. Further down the beach, a large chasm appeared, and black sand rushed down to where she couldn’t see. They realized that something wasn’t breaking through the sand but instead something that neither Atlas nor Harlow could see was carving through it from above. Something giant – something that was source of what she attributed to cavern wind howls.

In a panic of limbs, the two wizards dove back through the door and they both fought to slam the door shut. Atlas threw their back against it and braced their feet on the floor. The door rumbled and swung slightly open, more of those leech-like beings trying to get through, and Harlow scrambled to replace the lock. It only took a few seconds for her to wash the lock and replace it on the lock plate. When it engaged, the thumping and roar ceased.

They both slid to the floor and Harlow moved to lean back against the wall. Atlas leaned over to grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “Perhaps we should wait until we both have apprentices, and they can keep up with House to explore that a bit more.”

They chuckled nervously.

“So… you see us together down the line, mmm?”

Harlow teased, enjoying any distraction to process what the hell just happened and why a door leading to such a place was in Atlas’s vault.

“Gah.”

Atlas scooted off the door and to her side, facing her. “Are you saying you don’t?”

“I might need a little convincing.”

Harlow winked and scooted even closer; she could feel their still slightly panicked breath on her skin just as they likely felt hers.

“I think I can manage a little convincing.”

Atlas’s hand trailed against her cheek, bringing her to their lips. It was gentle and soft but they didn’t stop with one. As Harlow leaned more into their kiss, both of Atlas’s hands trailed down her sides, past her waist, and cupped underneath her to pull her up on their lap.

Fighting to not quite break their kiss, Atlas spoke. “Is this… okay?”

Harlow adjusted herself, her legs and knees stabilizing her position while sitting slightly upward, bending Atlas’s head back as her kisses gained aggressiveness. “Yes and perhaps we could find a way to use up all this extra adrenaline…”

she teased.

Atlas moaned when Harlow broke the kiss to nip the side of their neck. “More, Harlow. Please, I’m begging you, more.”

Her teeth clamped down on their neck and Atlas spasmed under her with a deep moan. She released the already blushed skin and leaned back. Her hands found the front of her blouse and her fingers toyed with the buttons there. “How much is too much, Atlas?”

Atlas struggled to answer, and she heard several attempts at replying die before they left their throat. Instead, they responded by pulling off their own mesh-like tunic.

“I am infinite space; I will take whatever you can give me, Harlow. And when you’re tired and on the verge of burning out, I’ll show you just how much I can fill you.”