Nauvis was a quiet town. It had been settled centuries ago, just outside of the metropolitan hub of the west, but had never grown large or loud. The stone buildings had been there for nearly as long as the town itself and the little shrines and museums were bountiful. Simon had been here some handful of times as a child when his father had brought him here on his work trips. In the time he had been away, nothing had changed. He was certain very little had even since its founding.

Even in the light of early morning, the place was lit unnaturally. As Simon found his footing outside the carriage, he squinted. The column of white ahead seemed infinite. No matter how he craned his neck, it was impossible to see the top as it dissolved into sunlight.

”Woah.” Isador’s voice was soft beside him. “It would be pretty if it wasn’t a little frightening.” He was right. There was something ethereal to it. If it did not make Simon’s heart race and his veins fizzle, perhaps it would have been beautiful.

“We will get our room in the inn and then worry about that.” If Simon was honest, he did not want to investigate the light at all. He had slept in the carriage, leaned against the wall and bent into an uncomfortable position, but he had not rested well. He let out a soft sigh as he moved toward the grey stone building. At least it had been Isador. At least Dorian had not been there.

The inn was nothing special. With a small pub and a desk near the entryway manned by a young woman with shimmering blonde hair, it was the image of rustic hospitality. “We have a reservation under Kahn.” Beside him, Isador stood smiling with suitcases in hand. “Isa, your purse.” He took a breath, knowing exactly how this looked. Having a handsome young man carrying his bags and handing over his money without a moment’s hesitation. Isador did not seem to pay the thought any mind as he handed over his wallet.

”Ah, you have our last room,” the young woman hummed. “Nauvis has been quite popular since last night. I hear we will even have royal visitors to inspect this strangeness.”

Isador’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing.”

She shrugged. “I only hope they will figure out what it is. The light makes it quite difficult to sleep.” She passed a key across the desk. “The third floor, first room on the right. Please enjoy your stay and alert me if there is anything I can do to assist you.”

As they walked toward the staircase, Simon pocketed Isador’s wallet. He would hand it back. Of course he would. Isador didn’t even question that.

But the man would never notice if Simon kept it. Money was nothing for him.

There was no reason to dwell on that, now when Isador was smiling behind him. “What?” Simon asked. He did his best not to speak harshly even as his mind wandered.

”No one here recognizes me.” He said it with so much delight in his voice that it almost took Simon by surprise. He understood, though, he supposed. It must have been at least a bit difficult to have every person in the capital recognize him. Even if Simon experienced something similar, being seen as a prince before he was seen as a man would impact everything. In other cities, though, it was less likely. “My portraits never really look like me, so I guess people think I’m someone else.”

Simon nodded as he made his way up the stairs. He ought to have tried to get a ground floor room. Though if this was the last available, there was nothing more to be done. He could be tired. That was fine. “The painters do always lighten your skin and darken your hair.”

“It makes the family look more cohesive.”

Simon had heard that before. He supposed it made some sense. Isador, with his rust-colored hair and gentle tan stood out among his family. “I prefer the real thing, I believe.” It was a silly thing to say, but the way Isador lit up was pleasant. At least he was happy.

“You’ve never had your portrait done, have you?”

Simon came to a stop at the door, inserting the key, and shook his head. “I’m not nobility. There is no need.”

Why was Isador frowning like that? “Your bloodline is special, though.”

Simon turned the knob, stepping inside. He held the door, clenching his jaw. “That doesn’t mean anything unless I marry into your family.”

Isador looked as if he intended to ask questions, and Simon knew exactly what they would be. The No rested on the tip of his tongue, ready. And then Isador glanced the other way. “Oh. We were given a single bed.”

Simon’s head snapped around. He was right. Of course. Even Isador wouldn’t miss that. He groaned, placing the key and the man’s wallet on the bedside table. “There is nothing to be done. If this is the last room, it is the last room.”

Isador looked him over, brows burrowed. Then, softly, he said, “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. You don’t have to share with me.”

Simon did his best not to grimace. He couldn’t ask that of a prince. “I will tolerate it. We have more pressing matters to attend to.” It was Isador. Isador was never going to do anything he didn’t want. He was a good man. There was no point in worrying himself when there was a giant column of unexplainable light outside.

Simon pocketed the key to the room and pushed his hair over his shoulders. The day was young. They ought to make the most of it and find anything they could. If they were fortunate, perhaps they would even find Aria. Simon did not like the idea of leaving her father with Chalice for longer than necessary. She had enough to deal with. Still, Simon couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving the man completely alone. He was sick, perhaps more so than his own father had been toward the end.

Isador did not need to be told to follow when Simon left. He kept close behind, quiet and calm, with a smile on his lips. It was sweet, seeing the way daily life seemed such novelty to him.Isador always seemed so charmed by this sort of thing. If he had not been a prince, he would have suited the life of a commoner well. Just walking down the street, he looked around with wonder in his eyes. His gaze focused on the cobblestone road and the mundane buildings, hardly ever moving toward the light above.

”Simon, there’s a tea room. I’ve always wanted to go to a small one.”

He sighed. “Later. We have work right now.”

”Promise.” Isador’s tone was deathly serious.

Even with the column of mysterious magical light, he had it within him to be so hellbent on this. Simon just nodded. “Yes. I promise we will go to the tea room. But not right now.”

Isador clasped his hands behind him, humming. Was that really all it took to satisfy him? Simon wished other people were so easy. As much as he could tire of Isador’s continual confusion and become frustrated, things were just… lighter with him. As much as he might like to think that Chalice and Gris were the only people he would miss when he left, Simon knew full well that Isador would make his absence known.

Isador would like moving somewhere quiet, too.

No. Simon couldn’t bring him. Besides, there was no point in worrying about that right now. They approached the edge of the treeline and Simon slowed. This light was brighter here and as they moved forward it cast strange shadows through the leaves. They laid themselves oddly over Isador’s face, distorting his features. He never had looked much like his family and no matter how the shadows changed, he never looked like Dorian.

Simon had expected a crowd, but it was more sparse than he had imagined. People stood huddled together, their hands over their eyes to shield them, murmuring. Perhaps they were early. And perhaps this would be more popular during the night. If they were fortunate, people were also smart enough to be wary and avoid this place. That, Simon doubted.

Isador stepped forward, staring ahead.

”Shield your eyes, Isador,” Simon warned him as he raised his own hand to offer some shade. “This will hurt them.” The brightness was unmatched by anything natural. As Simon approached, his face scrunched, though he was unsure if it was a reaction to the sheer hot white of it, or to the way that the hairs on his arms stood on end and his body seemed to crackle.

An older man, graying and stiff, stepped toward them with all the grace of a man who’d slept only an hour. “Gentlemen, we are not blocking off this thing, but please be careful. We do not know what it is or if it poses danger.”

Simon nodded. “Are you the lawman? We’ve been sent from the palace to look into this.”

The man’s leathery face twisted for a moment, looking the two of them over, and then his eyes widened. “Ah— Your Highness, my apologies, I did not recognize you. And you are the archivist?”

Simon nodded. “Allow us to do what we can, though this will be mostly to observe and determine what the nature of this is.” He waved Isador forward and the man followed him closely. “Your Highness. Can you send your own magical energy forward and see how it interacts?”

Isador bit his lip, but nodded. He stepped closer, only two meters from the light. It glowed against his skin, casting a pale shimmer over it. He extended his arm and it took everything in Simon not to tell the man that he should be careful. It was not his place to reprimand him. Not in front of citizens and not when at least some of them knew who he was. The sparks that emitted from Isador’s hand almost faded into non-existence, completely outmatched by the glow before them.

Isador frowned, shaking his head. “I can feel that it is powerful. My magic won’t do anything to something like this.”

”Would Dorian’s?” The question left his mouth before he could stop it. Simon did his best to ignore the pained look in Isador’s eyes.

”I don’t know.” He shook his head, taking a step back. “It might be enough. My mother might be able to do more, too.” He paused. “Perhaps he should have come instead of me after all.”

“No,” Simon said too quickly. “No, it is good that you are here. I trust you.” He sighed. Even he could tell that this was something unlike what Isador could do. This was raw and violent and full of power. A riptide. Isador’s magic in comparison was a trickle. Isador’s— even his parents’— magic had never made him feel like this. This was entirely other.

Simon kept his hand before his eyes, doing his best to cover them, but it was impossible to shield them as he stared into the column. It shifted and shimmered, perfectly white, almost sparkling. He blinked as he looked forward. In the midst of the column, it seemed almost as if there was a shape, distorted by the light, a figure.

Simon averted his gaze, dark spots filling his vision. He must have been imagining things. This column was no larger around than a sizable tree trunk.  There couldn’t be some hidden figure inside. Then again, this thing itself should not be. He took a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” Isador said softly. “I don’t know what this is. If I was better at magic like Dorian and Katherine, I might be able to figure out more.”

Simon shook his head. “I fear this may be beyond what they are familiar with.” There was only one person he was certain knew what was happening. Aria would know. But Aria… Simon shuddered. No. He couldn’t think quite like that. The ramifications if she was inside that light… The mere idea made him dizzy.

”Simon?”

He looked up, meeting the man’s eyes. “Yes?”

Isador frowned, pursing his lip. “I think I did not let you sleep well last night. The carriage wasn’t very comfortable.” He reached forward, and then withdrew his hand when Simon stiffened. “I know it is early in the day, but you should sleep. What knowledge can we gain by being here when you’re tired?”

Simon was not that exhausted. Still, the thought of Aria felt as if it were clouding his mind. And Isador had a point. There was little that they could uncover right now. It was difficult to parse anything with the way the light permeated everything. Even with his eyelids closed, it shone through until he turned away. Even then, this close, as Simon’s back faced the glow, it seemed to move through the rear of his skull and through to his eyes from behind. Much longer without a proper plan would only result in a headache.

“Alright. You are right.”

Isador stood still, his arm twitching ever so slightly toward Simon before he settled at allowing it to hang out his side. This was not the place to have Simon on his arm and he knew it. Simon led the way back to the inn, doing his best to put the way that Isador looked at him with such worry out of his mind.

It was only when they entered their room that Simon truly felt exhausted. He moved to the curtains, drawing them shut.

”Simon?”

He turned. Isador looked so serious. “Is everything alright?”

Isador stared down at the dusty wooden floor. “That is what I mean to ask you. You have seemed so distant. If I’ve done something—“

Simon shook his head. “You have my apologies. It is just nerves from all of this.” That was not entirely the truth. He knelt, searching his suitcase before he dipped behind the wooden dressing screen in the corner. “I have concerns that Aria may have dove too deep into studying magic in a way we do not understand. And I worry I have played a part in that.”

Simon stripped himself of his jacket, his top, his trousers, his stockings. All of it scattered on the floor.

”It isn’t your fault she took something that wasn’t hers.”

Simon nodded, even knowing Isador couldn’t see. He pulled a loose night shirt over himself. “I know.”

For a moment, Isador was quiet. “Do she think she found one way to use magic herself? Even though she’s not royalty?”

Simon stepped out from behind the screen, settling onto the bed. The mattress sagged beneath him, soft and cheap. “I do not know. If she has, she has cracked something that we do not currently understand.”

Isador frowned, standing at the edge of the bed. He took a pillow in his arms, pulling it to his chest. “If anyone can figure it out, it’ll be you.” He knelt, the top of his red hair the only thing visible as he sat the pillow on the ground.

”Isador, you don’t have to sleep there.” Simon could deal with sharing a bed. Even if it was not ideal… it was Isador. 

His head disappeared as he lay down. “No. You don’t like to share a bed. I don’t mind it.” His voice was soft and almost too genuine. With anyone else, Simon might assume it was a lie meant to placate his guilt.

But it was Isador.