Page 6

They approached the gates of the enclosure with a porting spell by Atlas, much to Harlow’s encouragement.

The town was quiet enough from down the road and they both gave Bethal’s home a wide berth should she call either of them over.

Like they mentioned, the runes were simple.

Higher-level spellwork than the average home or campsite, but something that each student was taught quickly.

The casting and upkeep were a great way to earn coin on the side should a student require some indulgence to lift their spirits.

Atlas had removed the excess clutter and wore a billowing, open, sky-blue semi-opaque top that accented their form with Harlow being able to see their silhouette from within.

They also wore brown linen pants with a dropped hemline complete with a pair of open toed sandals.

Hardly “battling a deadly beast” wear.

Harlow, on the other hand, had removed her long robe and had kept her tight pants, component belt, and a light beige beach-colored blouse.

Together they looked more like tourists than wizards on the hunt.

The Spellsaven had given her the rundown of all the rune locations and had planned to stay together the entire time.

Should they separate, she was informed to find the way back to the main gates.

This all seemed like complete overkill now that Harlow stood in the habitat.

It was only about an acre and it was lined with a thick line of trees that blocked sight from the outside.

Not quite center, there was a large pond with various large stones stacked about it, creating a small waterfall.

There was no stream but she spied runework that kept the water at a very specific acidic level and filtered it back to the top of the waterfall.

There were lily pads and other plants floating in the water, so much so that it looked like a fair warning that it was very unwelcome to swimmers.

Harlow noticed Atlas kept a wide berth from the trees on the edge and while they made the rounds of the property, she kept within sight distance.

What kind of beast would dwell here? It looked so average and underwhelming, more like a picnic location than anything else.

As she gazed into the water she noticed her reflection.

Or lack of one.

Curious, she crouched near the water and peered closer.

A few bubbles reached the surface, breaking her concentration, and she tensed in preparation for the beast.

Instead, a velvet teal frog with a sweet mint green belly broke the surface and floated there as if starting a staring contest with her.

It floated close to the rocks and when it neared them, climbed atop.

Worried for the frog’s safety, she stood back up and looked around.

Atlas had their back to her while renewing a rune from the southwest corner and she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

Harlow bent back down and when the frog hopped towards her, she chuckled and bent over to gingerly pick it up.

Harlow held it away from her face but kept it eye level. “Don’t worry friend, I’ll keep you safe from the beast,”

she teased.

“No, no, no, no, no…”

She turned her head slowly towards Atlas, who was stepping slowly towards her with hands outstretched, palms to her. “No sudden movements.”

Harlow blanched and slowly, as if on a creaking hinge, looked behind her. There was nothing. “I don’t see anything…”

Her voice hitched slightly and she slowly began to lower the frog.

“Pst, pst.”

Atlas’s eyes widened in terror as they watched her. “Harlow. You have the beast in your hands…”

Holding her breath, she looked down at the frog. “You’re the beast?”

The beast blinked one eye before the other and continued to stare at her.

“I don’t understand, Atlas… it’s just a frog.”

“No, no it’s not.”

Atlas reached out, just a step away from her. “Harlow. It’s important that you remember I will find you. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes… Atlas, I’m right here… what do you mean?”

she stammered.

“The beast… when startled…”

As they spoke, Harlow stopped lowering the frog, freezing in place. “…will force a teleport of those closely around it.”

“OK… OK, that’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, not so bad. Not so bad until you end up three leagues under the sea or in the middle of someone’s fireplace…”

“What?”

Harlow tensed; the frog spread its legs out as it dangled.

“Yes. When a person ports, we have a clear vision in mind… and if not, then the right words. The beast doesn’t have that kind of process. So, Harlow, here, look at me…”

Atlas feigned a reassuring smile. “Hey, there you are.”

Harlow’s hands began to sweat, or she thought it was sweat but the beast was also wet and that made the voice in the back of her head question the state of her hands while Atlas tried to rein in her attention.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, Harlow. Just know that no matter what, I will find you, okay?”

“I know…”

Sure, they’d find her, but in what state?

“Good, good.”

It was as if they were telling themself. Atlas breathed a sigh of relief as they placed their hand on her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

There were a few awkward moments where they both just stood there and stared down at the beast. Harlow cleared her throat. “So, do I just put it down?”

Atlas gulped and nodded. Their shirt was as loose as always but they still pulled at the collar. “Nice. And. Slow.”

They reached out their hands and cupped the bottom of hers so together they could lower the beast back to the pool of water.

Together they crouched low and the frog still refused to jump from her palms. Harlow looked to Atlas for advice and was met with a meek shrug. She titled her hands at an angle as if to incentivize a jump and the frog scooted back on its on legs, preparing to jump. Harlow mistook this as early success and she yelled, “A-ha!”

Atlas looked to have felt the same with a wide smile on their face but then they looked from each other’s faces back down to the frog to notice it aborted the jump and was now glowing blue. The Spellsaven winced when looking back at Harlow, who could feel her eye twitching.

The blue cascaded away from the frog in a matter of less than a second, no time to react other than to memorize Atlas’s face just in case it was the last thing she saw. She had lived a life where being killed on the job could happen so easily and was always a possibility, but here she could be killed by a frog. A beast indeed.

It couldn’t have been long but Harlow felt like when she was little and would wiggle between the bed sheets. The beds always seemed impossibly large then, and from the very middle, it was like endless billowing white clouds. But this was no relaxing revisit to her childhood. This was an endless feeling of those bedsheets wound around her and something from the outside bouncing her to and fro. Upside down and right side up. Her stomach was instantly queasy and her eyes felt like they were rolling in their sockets.

And then it stopped.

Her organs lurched as she felt her body reorient herself, and she felt so dizzy she fought to stand. There was solid ground under her feet. Ground or something like it. There was a chill in the air which brought her skin some relief. Harlow braved a peek and saw the evening sky. That’s good, she thought. Not in the ocean or in someone’s fireplace. Just out in the open. That’s a good start.

She gulped and opened the other eye. One of her hands was still out in front of her and the other felt so heavy at her side. She didn’t want to look at first; what could that mean? Wanting to get it over with, Harlow took a deep breath and looked toward that heaviness. Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed that heaviness was Atlas. They were sprawled on the ground, facedown, but their hand held hers so tightly. Their hand was warm; that was a good sign, right?

Harlow crouched and checked their pulse. She held herself back, held back the out of body experience of having perhaps played a part in killing Spellsaven Daggerroot. From beneath the mess of mahogany hair and various blades of grass somehow caught in their hair, Atlas peeped, “See? Found you.”

The thief collapsed beside them and began to laugh. It spilled out of her like some sort of curse. She was joined by Atlas, who only flipped upon their back. Together all the nervousness, the fear, and the relief poured out of them.

They laid there holding hands until the lights from down a path she only just really noticed grew brighter and music met her ears.

“So, shall we?”

Harlow stood, still grasping onto Atlas’s hand and then her body betrayed her. Her skin broke out in goosebumps and her vision began to darken around the edges. She dropped their hand and turned away from the wizard.

“Harlow?”

Concern peppered Atlas’s voice as she could hear them stand from behind her.

“I’m okay… I think.”

She turned to look back towards them but just that subtle movement almost made her lose the contents of her stomach. She felt suddenly hot and then very cold as her body fought to right itself.

Suddenly Atlas was in front of her and held a hand up to her forehead and another against her neck. “Hmm, hold on here.”

They threaded an arm around her and held to her side. The other hand held hers and they nodded towards the lights and noises. “Let’s just get there and we can get you a nice seat. Doesn’t sitting down sound nice?”

Confused but not ready to speak more than necessary, Harlow nodded very, very slowly. “It really does.”

Together they walked down the dirt trodden path towards the lights, which got brighter and the music louder. Atlas kept looking up to the stars and then surveyed the town emerging ahead. They clicked their tongue and nodded. “Good news is that I know where we are.”

Harlow strained against her better judgement on not talking. “When someone says good news, that implies there’s also bad news.”

“Well, that’s because there is a bit and only a bit of not-so-great news.”

Atlas squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“OK, lay it on me. I can...”

Harlow swallowed what she would only call a burp but it likely was not a burp to be trusted. “I can handle it.”

“Of course you can. You’ve got just a little portal sickness.”

Atlas slowed them to a stop at the edge of town.

It was a bit larger than the village near Daggerroot Manor but very much not large enough to be a city. Buildings were painted in various shades of red and had roofs made of clay tiles. Red and gold streamers connected buildings together. Doorways were decorated with trimmings of some dark green plant Harlow didn’t recognize. Out among the street were so many people. Faces that were not hidden behind insect-like masks were smiling at each other, laughing, and were singing along to a song that Harlow couldn’t bring herself to concentrate on at the moment. Tables were out among the streets filled with various wares and food. The smell made her mouth water even when struggling with her nausea.

“Portal sickness? So, you can’t just port us back or I should say just me?”

Harlow shook her head. She didn’t get any sort of sick often, and quite frankly this was embarrassing.

“Right. It would be irresponsible of me to even try. Come now, there’s an inn just beyond here and we’ll get you some ginger tea. That’ll get you sorted enough to not look so…”

Harlow raised a dangerous eyebrow towards them, warning them to continue.

“So… well, look, there it is!”

They pulled her slowly towards the inn while steering her around the people.

“Isn’t there a potion remedy for portal sickness?”

“There is. I have a few back at House.”

Harlow stopped just outside the inn on the stoop of it, clearly blocking anyone’s way. “So, just pop over, grab one, and pop back and then we can get out of here.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s the firefly festival.”

“…Okay…”

“And during the firefly festival it is tradition to go without magic. “

“So, what… a couple of hours?”

“Yes, thirty-six of them.”

Harlow gazed a million miles away. Dissociating with the knowledge that the people around her were not putting things back into their home but instead setting up.

“So, we’re stuck here…”

“We could walk.”

“And that would take how long… how far are we?”

“I believe our shoes would wear through their enchantments and through the soles before we would arrive even at the edge of the woods outside Daggerroot.”

“Wonderful.”

“Isn’t it?”

Atlas grew chipper looking around. “We made it just in time then. Come along, let’s get your tea.”

Harlow led the way instead through the doors and the inn was surprisingly empty along the tables. Atlas sat her near what looked like the hallway to the privy. Smart.

The innkeeper spoke to Atlas in hushed tones and Harlow managed a small smirk in her direction when they both looked over at her. That was the best she was going to be able to do. Atlas took a chair at the table and brought it over to her side.

“Here.”

They handed her a slice of something yellow. She recognized it – ginger. “Under the tongue, you can chew lightly if you must but just let it sit there.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Harlow rolled her eyes but Atlas only laughed back.

“Don’t worry, Harlow. I’ve got you. I admit, it will be nice to slow down and spend some time with each other. Once you’re feeling better of course.”

They beamed at her, seemingly unaffected by how gross she felt.

The ginger was already helping. It could be just the effect of feeling like there was something that could help her but ginger was always part of home remedies. Ones she trusted. As she sat in the chair, feeling a bit sorry for herself, Atlas began to pick the green blades of grass out of her hair and the feeling of their fingers combing through her felt so nice that she began to feel her eyes slide closed. Harlow couldn’t remember the last time someone touched her so gently without any expectation or pressure to return anything.

Harlow was blissfully unaware of the innkeeper approaching her to place the hot tea kettle and hand thrown teacups upon the table.

“If at all possible, we could use a couple of rooms for the night…”

Atlas’s hand left her hair and went to search their pockets.

“Out of rooms for the next two nights.”

“Oh dear.”

“But I do have a campaign tent that just got patched up this morning. Only large bedding though.”

“That would be lovely. We appreciate you helping us even though we have given you zero advance notice.”

Finally finding some sort of money, Atlas held out a handful of coins, each worth a week’s stay anywhere in the capital.

Atlas was waved off by the innkeeper. “Just come by in a few hours and we’ll have it all set up for you two. Enjoy the festival, Spellsaven.”

“Oh, thank you, we will!”

Atlas shouted after the woman, who was already disappearing back behind the counter.

The tea surprised Harlow. If it wasn’t for the festival, she would have sworn that it had been boosted by magic. That the healing leaves had some help as they already settled her queasy stomach and she felt like color must be returning to her cheeks.

Atlas gave her a once over and finished their own drink. “We’ll figure out the tent thing when we get to that.”

They must have thought that was what was why she was looking at them that way. In fact, she was taking them all in. A Spellsaven, her Spellsaven, sitting at a table in the middle of somewhere drinking ginger tea. Like it was something that was always done, that every Spellsaven was among the people like they always were busy telling people they were. The light from the sconces around them lit their face just so that Harlow could see the crease lines of their smile, of the just starting crow’s feet at the corners of their eyes. They were beautiful.

They must have figured out something else was going on behind her eyes because they titled their head, hair spilling over their shoulder looking at HER like she was the only one in the room. Which she was, but that didn’t matter so much. She felt like she was breathing so lightly as if taking in too much air would make this moment move along. How was she going to share a tent with them if she felt this pulled to them by just sitting at a damn table next to them?

Harlow took a deeper breath before she would hyperventilate and became instantly thankful when someone else entered the inn. She looked at them and gave them a quick welcoming smile but watched Atlas out of the corner of her eye. They had brought their hand to their face and were tapping their fingertips against their lips as if deep in thought while still watching her. What was going through their mind? She turned back just in time to see some blush in their cheeks. Which could, she had to admit, have been from the hot tea but she desperately hoped it wasn’t.

The festivalgoer was not alone and soon others piled into the inn. Harlow finished her tea and turned back to the Spellsaven, who was doing the same. “Well, what do we do now?”

A wide smile broke with those flushed cheeks and Atlas’s eyes sparkled, “We enjoy the festival!”

They bounded up from their seat and held out a hand to her. “If you’re feeling better of course, or we could stay here, hole up in the corner, and I can take care of you until you do…”

Should she fake being still unwell? Harlow wasn’t completely herself, that was for sure, but to say she needed to be waited on was a huge overstatement. They idea of the Spellsaven taking tender care of her instead of going off into the festival was such a sweet thought. She believed they would one hundred percent do that for her. She couldn’t do that to them, to take away experiencing the firefly festival that they were so clearly excited for. So excited for, in fact, that now she was feeling unrest in her feet. They bounced eagerly under the table, ready to move.

She stood, a lot more carefully than Atlas had, and felt the very whisper of unease in her stomach, but that would do. “Show me this festival, I don’t remember the last time I got to enjoy one.”

This was somewhat true. She did remember, however, the night ending in a rather bleak chase in the catacombs of a city she could not name for it would implicate her in the crime of high treason. She did enjoy that as well, though, so perhaps it still counted.

They exited the inn. Atlas held her hand gently as if escorting a lady about court. Soon, though, the streets were so flooded with bodies, masks, robes, carts, and general celebrations that they could no longer hold onto each other without some obvious physical romantic inflection.

They stopped at a cart with large, gilded wheels that they found by following the savory-smelling steam that drifted above the crowds. Atlas ordered for them both and together they were huddled off to the side, off the road blowing on the still-too-hot-to-eat red glazed balls of a meat that she didn’t care to hear what it was from. She just wanted to eat it.

“So why is magic forbidden during this festival?”

She spoke quietly, not wanting to seem any more of an outsider here than was obvious.

Atlas stepped closer to her, their shoulder now against hers.

“Back when magic was simple and quiet, not overconsumed the way it is now, people believed magic was in all things. That the explanation of why a small insect could be a beacon in the middle of the darkest night was because it was magic. That when Arkadus drenched the world in darkness for forty years, it was bearable, it was survivable because a tiny insect found its way across continents, across endless dark seas, and into towns just like this one. How could such a tiny thing survive such difficulties if it wasn’t magic? “

Harlow nearly snorted, “Arkadus? Really? That’s just a myth.”

“You can keep telling yourself that, but you won’t hear that from me,”

Atlas continued.

“And feeling and knowing that magic was in everything with every thread of their being, even the smallest creature was respected.

Come now into where societies are today and we no longer thank the tiny bug.

We don’t spend time learning whether Arkadus was real or not.”

Atlas winked teasingly at her.

“So, here at the Firefly Festival, it is acknowledged that all magic has a cost but it will never be at the expense of our past, of our stories, or of the firefly who flew in the dark, never wavering, to give us hope.”

Harlow was quiet as she looked over the crowd around her.

No magic was allowed and yet life continued.

As she held her stick of meat to cool in the air, her attention was immediately grabbed by Atlas who was frantically blowing air in and out of their mouth.

They had taken a large bite of the meat, which should have been cool by now, but there were tears streaming down the Spellsaven’s face which alarmed her.

She held a hand out to them as if that could survey the damage on its own.

“So spicy!!”

Atlas warned.

Laughter bubbled up through her and she watched as Atlas chewed a moment more before swallowing the bite. They immediately went for another and Harlow shook her head quickly at them.

“What?”

They spoke between hurried breaths. “It’s so good, worth the burn!”

She took the spare napkin and dabbed the corner of their mouth in a playful, mocking manner which Atlas only leaned into.

Although Atlas and Harlow were far from home and obviously didn’t fit in the aesthetics of the festival, they were never othered, quite often and quickly they were pulled into dance circles, something that Harlow found out Atlas couldn’t resist even to the point of feigning being pulled by absolutely no one into a circle.

No matter what the dance pattern was, the steps of the choreography, somehow and maybe with a little firefly magic, they were always paired together.

When the slower dancing required pairs to be so close that not even a sheet of paper could pass between them, there was Atlas.

When the dance required spins and pretended kisses to cheeks, there was Atlas.

And for tonight, Harlow could allow herself to dream that there was always going to be just Atlas.

The dancing never really stopped, and it took some convincing to exit the circle so that Harlow could cool down.

There was a lake large enough to keep the chill close but small enough to see the other side.

The other side had woods just as dense as the forest outside the Manor and it made, just for a moment mind you, Harlow a little homesick for it.

The sun was just about to set and the last deep purples and pinks were cascading into deep violets and cool indigos.

Smooth, gentle fingers slid over her vision and she could hear Atlas’s breaths just over her shoulder as they stood right behind her.

Harlow’s hands went to theirs and held gently.

There was a moment’s pause where she could feel Atlas’s hands freeze in place.

She rubbed the back of their hands with her thumbs and that seemed to thaw Atlas’s resolve enough relax their hands.

She pulled their hands away from her face, perhaps ruining any surprise a bit, and let them fall to her sides.

But she didn’t let go, she held their hands, still slightly sweaty from the dancing or from the spicy meat that Atlas couldn’t stop grabbing at every opportunity.

Harlow leaned back into their chest and she heard Atlas’s breath catch.

Just like their hands, they became stiff, surprised.

Harlow wanted to look up at them, wanted to see their face, but that she knew would be a mistake.

That this fluttering in her chest would only want to push her for more and if Atlas pushed back in even the slightest, the illusion would be broken.

Instead, she nuzzled further back into them and they melted.

Their body relaxed around her and they drew their hands up and around her waist as they both watched as tiny, inconceivable magical lights begin to peek from the darkness across the lake.

They stayed liked this for hours, Atlas just holding Harlow as they watched the tiny beacons flit and float around from the forest, creeping among them as the town began to douse their flames to encourage the fireflies to fly among them.

Harlow barely remembered being carried back to the campaign tent.

It was large enough for a full bed, albeit hobbled together with mismatched bedding but comfortable enough.

She barely recalled Atlas taking off her shoes, tucking her into bed, and brushing the hair out of her face.

She just remembered that the Spellsaven began to lay a sheet upon the ground for themselves when she called out to them.

Just whispered their name and stretched out a hand.

Atlas came to her so quickly, took that hand and placed it against their cheek. She just remembered that they curled together with Atlas wrapping her up in their arms and resting their chin on the top of her head.

She only barely remembered that it was true that magic was in everyone and everywhere.

And Harlow would never forget the magic she felt in their arms.