PART I: City

It is here where this story sets its stage—the city of Magic, bright and glistening like a pearl in the deep sea: Ambrehime, the place where fantasy goes to live and breathe. It is here that they are enthralled into one another; it is here where the city is divided into two; and it is here where the damage is done. 

ORION

There was a hum to the city, something like a heartbeat. He heard it often and he liked listening to it, so, sometimes, when the day was just right, he would sit on top of some poor soul’s roof and listen to it. It could have been the factories far out on the edge of the city, or maybe the bustle of the lives beneath him. Regardless, he liked to be high above everyone else, above the horizon. Today, the sun was brighter, the day cooler, and his own heart seemed to swell as he looked onto the half of the city that never wanted him. He’d been doing this since he could run, since he could disappear between the tight crevices of buildings and disappear. Some called him naive (Javi). Some said he was a wild card (Skyla). Others told him to grow up. But he had done enough growing up. He slid down the fire escape ladder and onto the streets where he almost ran into a woman dressed in too bright of colors for a regular Wednesday—she was dressed a little too prim and proper and still had the nerve to look at him as though he were crazy, out of place, unwanted. Which was true. He was dressed like nothing fit him right. His pants poofed around his legs and his shirts hung off his shoulders. Sure, he was slightly thinner than most, but he filled his skin as best he could. Not that it mattered to him. There was a pretentiousness to this side of the city that he did not enjoy, but it was the only part of the city that seemed to be properly alive with its endless colors and glass and industrialization. 

He wanted to be back where he felt like he belonged, so he slipped through this half of the city back to where he belonged. The Craven Crow stood in all its neon and splintering glory. The doors swung open and the wall of booming music, the smell of sharp alcohol, and the clamor of voices rushed at him. 

From across the bar a voice called, “the boy wonder is back!” A man with a scraggly beard and heavy bags raised his arms from behind the bartop. Orion shook his head, laughing but made his way to the man. He propped himself onto a stool and took the drink he had made. It burned his throat to swallow it but it was a good burn. “How was your tour de Nord?” A smile stretched over the man’s face. The depths of his wrinkles were like caverns, deep and dark. He wasn't even that old. How did a man like Javi, no more than maybe somewhere between ten to twenty years older than Orion look like an elderly man? It was not aging; it was not life. It was unfair. 

Orion leaned onto the bar counter, “it was fine, nothing special. I thought I’d end up finding something but,” he ended his answer with a shrug. “Apparently, the Academy is doing something.” 

“What something?” Javi asked, leaning in closer.

Orion stared down at his drink. “They’re meddling with magic again.” The air by the bar counter stiffened at the mention. The few ears that were listening now gazed at him, their attention peaked with fear, concern, interest—it didn't matter. He had his audience. Orion tapped his fingers on the side of the glass, “apparently, the council charged a small group with finding a way to harness it. The City Watch doesn’t know. Their assistants don’t know. And, get this, Octavia also does not know.” 

A voice came, “how does the Academy’s president not know?” 

“You would think she’d have better grip on her faculty,” another added.

Orion picked up his glass again, “there aren’t any teaching scholars in the group. It’s two students, some dean, and a council member actively serving on their little committee.” He took another sip, then left the rim of the glass on his lips as he observed the faces. It always amazed Orion how a few hours in the streets of the city allowed him to have so much control over others emotions and reactions. Even now, he found so much delight in not having to control himself. 

Orion finished the drink, sliding the glass back to Javi. “Who are the students?” Javi asked. 

“One of them is the son of Julius Crane,” the mention of the exiled man seized the very air in the room. The small group around him froze like statues, like deer in headlights. “Jonah Edmund Crane. Apparently, he’s a magic user—both the students are as well as the dean.” 

“Who’s the council member?” Someone on the far left raised.

Orion answered, “Graves.” They all groaned in frustration.

“Not the weasel,” Orion snickered at the nickname. Alister Graves, the third and youngest member of the council, always found his way into the business of everything but his own. A few years ago, the southern half of the city had started its own market of exotic goods and imports. The market lasted a week before Alister Graves shut down all operations and moved it from the south to the north. Last year, Javi tried to upgrade the Crow by adding a few more square feet. The south’s population was growing and he wanted more space for business. Alister Graves caught wind and shut it down. The other council members found no issue with either the market of Javi’s upgrades, yet Alister made it his mission to shut them down. 

A familiar red-headed and freckled face leaned onto the counter, “hello, Skyla.” Orion said but she rolled her eyes. To say the least, Skyla and Orion were not the best of friends nor the most affectionate of acquaintances. 

Skyla asked, “Give us more on what you mean they’re meddling with magic. Last time all they did was make the Ivy Cores. What more could they want now?” 

Orion leaned back onto the stool chair. Javi had made him a second drink he had neglected until now. He took a sip– no, a gulp. “It is the council’s understanding—and, mind you, I’m only going off of what I was told and what I was able to read—the council thinks that there’s a pocket of magical energy on this side of the city and instead of being reasonable and asking us, they want to excavate at least a miles worth of ground.” That sparked more than interest—anger erupted.

“That’s outrageous.”

“They’ve lost their minds.”

Someone had pulled a knife and slammed it into the counter. Once more, the small group froze. “It’s what I heard, don’t shoot the messenger.” Orion finished the glass again. A faint buzzing tickled his skin. All eyes moved slowly from Orion. Desperation and irritation were thick in this group, but as much as they all wanted to act on their feelings, they knew better. They all knew better, so they turned to Javi. 

Javi shook his head, already knowing the questions that were coming. “I’ve just heard about this.” Javi, an aged man in maybe his forties, had practically raised this half of the city. He was a man of the community and a man of his word and honor. He knew how to reason. He knew the language of the north; he knew what was best for them all. But right now, he seemed to not know what to do.

“I’ll figure it out.” He said, “I will figure it out.” but there was no relief in the air. 

Orion turned on his chair and stepped off, picking up the empty glass to chew on one of the ice cubes. He began to leave the counter, but an arm grabbed him. He turned to see Javi staring at him. “Meet me in the back.”

In the back of the bar was the break room with a small kitchenette and sebveral random posters. One of them was a map of the city, cut in two: North Ambrehime written in curling cursive and South Ambrehime in a bold san serif. The differences, evne in the map, were clear. The small details of twinkling lights and golden outlines and the Council House juxtaposed the dark sewage green of the bottom half of the poster. No details for lights, black lines, and a horrible sketch of a crow. The city hadn’t always been this divided, but when the council cam einto play, things changed.

Javi came through the door and elt it shut behind him. “You’re scaring people,” Orion made a face, offended by the accusation.

“It’s what I heard! It’s what I saw!” He argued.

Javi swiped a hand over his own face, clearing the sweat from his brow. “I know. I know, but– fuck, Orion.” Orion saw the wrinkles on Javi’s face deepen, growing in size and color. But, through the stress, he saw something else. Something in the other man’s eyes. Guilt. “You already knew,” Orion said. 

Javi opened his mouth to say something, but let it shut. 

Orion shook his head, “you let me sit there and tell them all of that, all while you played dumb? You knew.” The door opened to the break room. Skyla.

“We knew.” She said, “We've known for two months.” 

Orion scoffed. “This is a joke.” He turned away from them to stare at the poster of the city.

But neither of them changed—nothing in their faces changed. “Graves already reached out to us.” Orion craned his neck back, eyes blown with shock. “Alister ‘Weasel’ Graves reached out to you? For what?”

“An alliance.” Skyla said. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” he took a seat on the bench against the wall. Javi opened the fridge to grab him sparkling water. Orion took it, carking it open and taking a long, bright gulp.

He was trying to make sense of it all. “What kind of alliance?” Javi and Skyla looked between one another. 

Javi starred, “Graves knows that if they started digging up on this end of the city, that they’d start a riot. He and the rest of the council knew that was not fair to us but mainly for his half of the city. So, he suggested we have someone—a student—sit on his little committee.” 

He stared at the older man, “no one in the city has ever gotten into the Academy,” 

Skyla corrected, “not true.” She walked over to a drawer and pulled out a manila folder and slid it to Orion. He opened it to see a picture of him, several essays, and, the thing that made his heart sink, a completed Ambrehime Academy Admission Application.

“We filled it out a couple months ago. It only came back now.” 

Orion stammered, “I– Why–”

“You got in.” Javi added to his strife.

Orion shook his head, violently. “That school is for the magical,”

“Unless you study something equivalent.” 

“I can’t–” Orion started, but Javi took hold of his wrist. 

The deep brown of his eyes had always been sharpened to some sort of edge. The years had weathered him. Javi always kept himself stoned, but now, he had softened, nearly melted. “The only way we get a say in what happens is if you’re there. None of us have ever gotten into the Academy. They purposefully keep us out. They deny us everything. That side of the city has always looked down on us.”

“But not now,” Skyla added.

Javi continued, “now, you have the chance to make things right and if you have to break the system, O’, then fucking break it.”