The carriage ride to the capital wasn’t a long one. I took a brief nap to reorganize my thoughts and dispel any pent-up frustration after my conversation with Senrith. I woke to a loud thumping on the carriage door.

Senrith swung the door open and met my eyes, “We’ve arrived, magician.” 

“I have a name, you know.”

He only raised an eyebrow at me.

“It’s Korvack,” I said, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Well then, Korvack. Welcome to the capital city of Morsenia, Halloch.”

I descended the steps out of the carriage, my hands reached toward the spring sky in a deep stretch, and as my eyes adjusted to the light, I let my gaze wander across the scene in front of me. 

Fortified walls of white stone stretched as far as the eye could see. Watchtowers of the same white stone sat at regular intervals along the wall. Senrith and I bid farewell to the driver and entered the city through the gate. The city unfolded before me. Blackened cobblestones made up the roads; they resembled the stones used in the walls but had been scorched black. The buildings within the city had thatched roofs and stone walls. The rocks rose in a gradient from the blackened stone of the streets to the white stones of the walls. 

Halloch was a circular fortified city, split into four quarters with main roads running along the cardinal directions. In the middle, where the four roads met, was an enormous decorative fountain with statues of people. I could only assume they were historical figures prominent in Morsenia’s history. Sensing my confusion about the statues, Senrith spoke up.

“All of the statues are members of the royal family who contributed greatly to the continued development of both Halloch and Morsenia.”

“Huh.”

At each corner of the independent districts stood notched, archaic-looking pillars. Carved designs stood etched into the stones. My gaze swept over them, and I could sense atmospheric mana running into their runes. The carvings reminded me of the runic inscriptions along the copper rod I had taken with me on this trip. At the top of each pillar was a ring carved from the same stone. Attached to the rings were scorched stone chains, each loop roughly the size of a young child. The chains, contrary to their material, seemed to drift weightlessly with the light breeze flowing through the city’s center. 

They reached into the sky above the fountain, where they connected to the round side of a half sphere. The bottom of the sphere appeared to be the only thing within the city not made of the different colored cobblestones. But instead of some black metal. The underside of the floating island contained an uncountable number of runic inscriptions. I had to strain my vision to make out any of the carved runes. Sitting atop the flat half of the island was what I could only assume was the royal palace.

The castle had three spires, the middle being the tallest, while the two that stood on its flanks were of equal height. They had used the same stones for the walls. Except that, within the cracks of the rocks, instead of a grayish mortar that the houses and walls used, was liquid gold and other precious metals. When the castle walls caught the light of the sun, they glistened with a sense of regality.

I stifled a scoff after looking up at the castle. Although the rest of Halloch didn’t seem like it was particularly struggling, the obvious consolidation of wealth by the royalty was something that turned my stomach.

Finally, Senrith and I reached a heavily guarded building on the northwest edge of the circular plaza. The guards nodded at Senrith and allowed him through the door. The two of us descended a flight of stairs and arrived in front of an arch, sitting alone in the building’s chilled basement. On the right pillar of the arch was a rectangular indentation. Senrith approached the cavity and pushed a glassy pendant with cracks of gold running through it into the depression. Instantly, the mana reacted.

Like a curtain unfurling, a translucent sheet of mana poured out from the top of the arch. Fitting perfectly within the arch, the mana held its shape, and once it hit the ground, it changed from translucent to a swell of constantly changing colors.

“Well, no time to waste then,” Senrith said, stepping into the sheet of mana, and without any sound, he vanished.

Following his lead, I stepped through the sheet of mana.

Without warning, I was forcefully dragged through space, stepping out of an identical arch. The arch sat within a grand hall, the walls surrounding me that lacked ornate portraits or carved marble statues showed the white stone laced with gold, telling me I was within the palace.

The hall’s floor was covered with a woven red carpet with gold and silver threads, depicting the history of Morsenia. I stepped to the side as an image caught my attention. It seemed to be showing the ancient mages—a title only given to those with complete mastery over mana—creating the floating island.

In my peripheral vision, I noticed Senrith motioning for me to follow him down the hallway. His gaze followed mine and looked down at the image I was admiring.

“I’m sure Master Mirrus recounted the tales of the ancient mages to you, yes?”

A memory flooded my mind.

You seem interested in the ancient mages, Korvack.

How could I not be Master Mirrus? No one had ever seen their absolute control over mana before them or since!

The two of us were cleaning the fifth floor of the tower in between training sessions.

I could tell you all I know, but then…

He paused, let out a sigh, and continued.

Korvack, please explore the world, not only this continent laid out before you. I don’t want you to be stuck within this tower your whole life, spending it much like I did, studying magic with no end goal. There are ruins of cities built by ancient mages, dungeons, and relics, spread throughout not only Morsenia but everywhere. I think that if I tell you too much of what I know, your curiosity about them might die.

A pensive silence fell between the two of us. I remember the look on Master Mirrus’ face: a kind of somberness had settled over his wrinkled features, framed by his long, white, shoulder-length hair. He had rolled up his sleeves on his light green robes, and he pushed stray locks out of his face before returning to his cleaning.

The memory faded, and I met Senrith’s eyes, “Only small stories here and there.”

“Well, I’m sure His Majesty would indulge you in some of the reading within the royal library about the ancient mages. He himself has been interested in them for his entire life.”

“I’ll make sure to ask.”

The two of us walked along the large hall before exiting out a side door roughly halfway through the hall. After a winding walk through the palace, nodding to guards here and there who all bowed deeply to Senrith, we arrived at the seemingly most ornate place in the entire palace.

Two heavily armed guards were standing on either side of a pair of enormous double doors. They were red in contrast to the walls, matching the carpets that ran across the entire palace floor. Inlaid with gold leaf and other gemstones, the doors exuded another absurd sense of regality that perfectly matched the palace’s exterior.

Senrith motioned toward the guards, and they pushed open the doors. As the doors swung open, a few brief words from my master ran through my head.

The king and I are old friends, Korvack. Of course, as the only magician on the continent, I’ve served generations of this royal family. But when you do eventually go meet him in a formal sense, you’ll have to show a bit more subservience than you might want to.

The throne room was shocking. The room itself felt like it wouldn’t—it couldn’t fit within the palace. But after so many lefts and rights while Senrith led me, I had no idea where we were. 

A red carpet, a deeper red than the rest of the royal abode, ran the length of the throne room, ending at three marble steps that led up to the dais, on top of which sat the throne. The throne itself was composed almost entirely of the same marble as the steps, but it had obviously cracked with age in places. Lightning bolts of gold ran through the cracks, filling in the seat. A plush cushion of the same deep regal red as the carpet was beneath the man sitting on the throne.

The back of the throne was double the height of the man sitting within it. It rose above him and ended in three peaks, mirroring the three spires that made up the palace. 

I walked forward, about halfway through the throne room, before dropping to one knee. As I lowered my head, I could almost hear that old ma—my master’s laughter at my current position.

He would have loved to see me like this, I thought.

“It’s Korvack, isn’t it?”

The king was leaning forward in his throne; it seemed as if he might fall off the front of it as he stared down at me. He was the picture of regality, but not abundance. A small gold crown sat on his head, a full-length coat of fur was placed on top of a relatively normal grey tunic, and white pants.

He looked young, lacking the noticeable wrinkles that must come with the stress of managing a kingdom. His hair was graying in places, but for the most part, it remained a deep brown. His matching brown eyes shone with a fiery interest and intensity as he peered down at me.

“It is,” I said, quickly adding “your majesty,” just to be safe.

“Oh, stand up, boy,” He said, motioning with his hand, “and no need for the whole royalty shtick. Mirrus was a friend and confidant, no need to act like any of my servants. That isn’t the relationship I hope to build with you.”

Shocked, I stood and met his gaze.

“Just call me Morsen.”

“Understood, Morsen,” I answered with a nod.

He stood from the throne and walked gingerly down the marble steps, a motion that defied his young-looking nature.

Once he had descended the steps, he walked up to me with a grace that countered the previous motion, leaving me even more confused about his actual age.

We stood face to face. I was a little taller than he, but not by much, and he turned his gaze slightly upward before clapping a hand on my shoulder.

“Damn, you’ve gotten a lot bigger from the last time I saw you.”

“Have we met before, Morsen?” I asked with an eyebrow raised.

He waved his hand, “Only briefly on my trips to Mirrus’ tower. But it has been ages since then. Makes sense that you’re so much bigger, Mirrus was a fine cook.”

A scoff escaped my mouth.

“Oh, you don’t think so?”

I coughed lightly before speaking, “I think once I could cook for myself, he only ever made me cook.”

Morsen let out a booming laugh before speaking again. “That sounds exactly like the stingy bastard I know,” he said, a large smile on his face.

I laughed lightly, and the two of us stood without speaking for a brief moment. The mention of my master seemed to turn both of our moods a bit sour.

I spoke to break the silence. “So, Morsen. What do you need from me?”

“Now, now, Korvack. Let’s adjourn to a more comfortable place to discuss what needs to be done within the capital. And a place where we can catch up, I have much to ask you.”

He motioned toward the right side of the throne room with his free hand. A door was tucked away behind the pillars that lined the sides of the space.

With a glance over his shoulder, he motioned with his head for Senrith, who had been stationary near the back of the throne room, to follow us.

The three of us arrived at the door, and Morsen pushed it open, revealing what seemed like a study. 

Bookshelves lined every wall; the only spaces free of books were a small fireplace on the right side of the room and the cavity where the door sat.

A wooden desk with a few candles on their last legs strewn across it sat opposite the fireplace, and two lounge chairs made of some luxury leather faced the desk. But as Morsen approached one, placing a hand on its back, he turned it to face the fireplace and the carved wooden table in the middle of the room.

He sat down in the chair and motioned for me to take the other before turning his attention toward Senrith.

“Senrith, thank you for everything as usual. You’re relieved from your duties today, but send word to some servants to bring us something to drink.”

Senrith bowed, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, also, tell Martel to join us.”

Senrith bowed again before exiting the room. As the door closed behind him, I caught a flowing white dress through the crack of the door’s final opening before it shut seamlessly into the wall.

A look of confusion briefly crossed my face. I hadn’t sensed anyone else within the throne room except for Morsen and Senrith.

Morsen caught the flash of confusion on my face, “Ah, it was likely my daughter, Martha. She was interested in seeing Ol’ Mirrus’ apprentice.”

I laughed lightly, “Martel and Martha Morsen? You like your M’s, don’t you?”

Morsen shrugged, “My wife named them. I wanted a bit more diversity in our naming, but she said something along the lines of ‘keeping it regal’ or something.”

I looked around the room briefly. There was an abundance of magical vanities within it. A window on the wall opposite the door wasn’t really a window at all. It was stained glass, but a rune behind it gave it a faint glow, imitating sunlight. The fireplace could be turned on with the press of a button, and many of the bookshelves had automatic sorting systems that would pull the marked books back into place from anywhere in the room.

“Mirrus designed them all.”

I let out a loud laugh, and Morsen raised an eyebrow at me.

“I actually designed all those runes for your bookshelf sorting system.”

Morsen couldn’t suppress his shock, his jaw hanging open.

“You’re telling me Mirrus just took credit for that?” 

He brought his hands to his face and dragged them down across it. “I also guess he wasn’t lying when he said you were just as good as he was.”

“I guess we’ll have to find out.”

Another somber silence fell over the two of us. Morsen had known my master a lot longer than I had, but I needed to know what he knew about Mirrus’ disappearance.

“Morsen, I have to ask, do you know anything about master Mirrus’ whereabouts? I’ve tried contacting him in any capacity, but I’m unable to. I’m worried about him.”

“I doubt I know more than you, Korvack. He came and spoke to me, quite the unnatural thing, him coming here unprompted, but he didn’t let anything on. He seemed to be the picture of normality, well, as normal as he could ever appear.”

“What was your conversation about? Did he mention he was going anywhere?”

Morsen shook his head. “He didn’t. We shared a drink, reminisced, and before I knew it, night had fallen. The two of us walked to one of the courtyards, and he drew a single-use teleportation rune on the ground and left.”

“Could you show me the rune?” I asked. If I could decipher the rune, I might know where he had gone.

Morsen rubbed the back of his neck, took off his crown, and placed it on the table in front of us. “I could, but after he used it, it burnt up, erasing almost all of the evidence it had ever been there.”

A knock at the door pulled us from our conversation.