#original fic

So, not invaders from another system, Esther mused, catching skin instead of nail and removing her hand from her mouth. Or perhaps there were invaders, but Prosperia knew more than they let on.

Alek landed with a balanced bounce on the framework of crossing lines and launched an arced wind at the emptiness ahead of him. A transparent shield materialised over his forearm, and he swiped at an imaginary opponent.

During the purge, mage soldiers were taught to envision a ring encircling them, and to notice whenever an enemy or a friend trespassed that barrier. In the course of their training, they were encouraged to expand their protective fence, extend into the unseen space beyond their immediate view, and react quicker and more effectively with each attempt.

Kicking out, he visualised his boot meeting an enemy face and swerved to dodge an incoming attack, rearing his shield and retaliating with a devastating strike. Deciding that his enemies lay vanquished, he extinguished the shield and swept the residuals of his spell from his fingertips. He sought his sparring partner in the practice platform, finding her instead on a low bench, book in hand and knees drawn to her chest.

“This is a sparring room, not a library,” he pointed out. “We’re supposed to be training.”

Esther’s brows twitched, her ear almost meeting her shoulder as she tried to make sense of a diagram.

Alek advanced on the incline of spectator benches, marking each footfall with a noisy stride. “The military have kindly allowed us to use this space.”

Her faraway interest heightened, and she riffled deeper into the contents of the book.

Escalating his tactics, Alek crept, manoeuvring so lightly his shoes barely whispered on the panels. He leaned down, nose inches from her cheek. “Myriad to Esther?”

Esther jarred and bundled the book close in her retreat, scowling at him as he sauntered back to his post. “What was that for?” she demanded.

“Have you not noticed that we are in a training centre?” he said, stretching out his arms to their surroundings. “You were the one who wanted some sparring practice, and instead, you sit there and read.”

She snapped the book shut and set it aside, meeting him inside the boundaries of the floor grid. “Sorry. Got distracted.”

Alek waved away her apology. “You can read if you want.”

“No, I promised I would train with you. Books can wait.” Detaching the inactive flail from her belt, she reinvigorated the runes with a motivated spur, intense green pulsating until the entire orb burned bright and deadly. “Ready?”

“On your mark.”

Esther initiated her attack without warning, dissecting his defences in unrelenting hits and redoubling her efforts when he regained himself. Her footwork warded off trouble as his shield glanced flail pounds and ferocious spells, rapid tactics colliding with each of her defiant challenges. Magic met weaponry in a thumping rhythm, mage endurance and skill put to the test in a rapid-fire exchange of hits and blows.

Alek declared the fight a draw and hobbled to the benches, gulping at his water container and savouring the icy sensation of the cooled towel on his sweat-soaked face. “You don’t hold back,” he said breathlessly.

“Why would I hold back?” Esther replied. “Friend or foe, if you challenge me to a fight, I’m going to fight like I mean it.”

Alek elbowed her arm with pride, eyeing the hefty book she shifted to grab her drink. “What are you reading?”

“Are you genuinely interested, or are you just making conversation?”

“Genuinely interested.”

“It’s about the War of the Dark Star,” she said. “Goes into all sorts of interesting stuff like the tensions before it became a conflict and theories about Prosperian involvement.”

“Prosperian involvement?” Alek repeated. “Like them starting it?”

“Not exactly. Serra Maud claims that there were disagreements on Prosperia before the war started. She never found out what they were precisely, but she tracked some stuff during the war that kept linking to Prosperia, not an invading system as other scholars maintain. But this is theory. Nothing has been proven, and people think she made it up.”

“And what do you think?” Alek questioned, swigging the last of the water from the container and throwing it into his bag.

“I...” Esther considered the book. She had hoped she might find answers, but it only presented her with more questions. Her doubts doubled, and suspicion surged tenfold, yet she still had no definitive evidence. “I started reading about the War of the Dark Star to test a theory of my own.”

“Which is?” Alek pressed.

“Have you ever thought about that alert at the lab when The Core woke up? The strange message that appeared?”

“It was someone asking for help,” Alek recalled. “Professor Spark said it was a remnant from the war.”

“He must have got thousands of distress calls like that, yet that is the only one on the system,” Esther pointed out. “Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

Alek shrugged. “Technology isn’t my speciality,” he admitted. “I don’t know how stuff is stored or when it expires.”

“It doesn’t sit right with me,” Esther said. “I’m not doubting that the message is from the war, but he seemed eager for us to forget about it. That’s why I’m digging around, finding out what I can. There’s something he’s not telling us.”

“Why don’t you talk to him about it?” Alek advised. “He’s due back this afternoon, so you can ask him then.”

“Do you truly think he would be honest with me?” Esther challenged.

Alek wiped his face with the towel again and shoved it into his sports bag, shifting the bottle and a bundle of energy bars to make room. “Everyone is entitled to their secrets,” he reasoned. “I can’t imagine it’s an easy subject for him. His own creation being used by an enemy to butcher and destroy.”

“After everything we went through to help him, we deserve the truth,” Esther insisted, collecting her belongings. “Every shred of it. No matter how hard it might be.”

* * *

Bartholomew chortled into the scratch and clatter of silverware, brandishing his hand in front of him and springing from his seat. “The little creature raced ahead, and to my astonishment, there it was, the ruins of Avolire, rising from the fog. I was certain none of the stronghold had survived, but the lower structure remains intact. Quite extraordinary. I promised the elves that should they wish to rebuild, I would be more than obliging in my assistance. Back in its day, you could see that mighty fortress from almost every mountain on Skuld.”

From the plentiful selection of desserts, he scooped a slice of fruit pie onto his plate and retook his chair. Tales overflowed from him as he entertained the cosy gathering, stories of the loneliest reaches and close shaves with danger winding into the evening hours.

He coughed up a dry tickle and sipped at his glass of sweetened water. “But that is quite enough of my rambling,” Bartholomew declared. “What have I missed while I have been gone?”

The four in attendance looked to each other. With no volunteer, Bartholomew angled to their resident architect. “How is the new outpost progressing, Oscar?”

“The sketches and the blueprints are finished, and Lord Luceras has negotiated the details,” Oscar answered. “Our building team have their instructions, so we’re hopeful the work can begin next week.”

“Fantastic,” Bartholomew said with an enthused clap, and swung his attention to Alek and Esther. “And what motivated our unexpected arrivals to visit?”

“I fancied a change of air,” Alek replied with a mouthful of cake. Swallowing, he brushed the crumbs from his shirt. “Got tired of sitting still, and it’s been so long since I dropped by.”

“Too long,” Bartholomew scolded light-heartedly. “Esther?”

Esther lifted from her distracted slump. Alek silently offered his services in covering for her, but she subtly declined, loading another slice of cake onto her decorated plate. “I needed a change of air too,” she said.

Bartholomew inclined his head to her, spectacles slipping slightly. “At any rate,” he said, poking them into place on the bridge of his nose, “I am heartened to see the three of you together again.”

“It is a cheering sight,” Altair agreed, tipping his crystalline glass to them.

“Speaking of cheering sights, how are our extended party faring?” Bartholomew questioned.

“They are well,” Altair said. “Azra wrote to confirm he will be returning from his studies on Lucarian soon, and Lilith is on Aetherdril with Delegate Canaris for the anniversary reception. The Myriad Coalition is making incredible strides.”

Brightening at the bond the renewed alliance fostered, Bartholomew leaned forward over his dessert. “So I have heard. Although Lumen agreeing to the terms of membership so readily came as a shock.”

“It’s a smokescreen,” Esther said, her thoughts bypassing her brain. The dining room fell still. “Whatever terms they’ve accepted have no bearing on how the workers are treated in private. Lumen will appear to comply while they look for loopholes to exploit. It’s how their entire system functions.”

“That is a rather cynical view,” Altair aired.

“Is it not odd that out of seven major cities, only two have a voice in the Coalition?” she pointed out, too far into her distrust to stop now. “Lumen has the most seats, unelected I might add. I do not know how Neo Arcadia wrangled their way past Lumen’s restrictions, but Delorem is the only world not properly represented.” Esther’s fork paused above the last morsel of cake, hunger gone and a restless swill in her stomach. “I had the displeasure of witnessing the cruelty enacted by the industry families first-hand. It will take much more than the Myriad Coalition to change that.”

While occupied by research and exams at the Citadel, Esther still stayed watchful over the developments in Lumen. Harrowing articles of death and destruction in the streets preceded headlines highlighting an increase in sales for Featherheart Industries, blood and business bound in unbreakable bonds. The few exchanges with the Kingsrose estate did little to dispel her concern. The city was on the verge of breaking, and matters were only getting worse.

“Lumen has always been tricky,” Bartholomew contemplated, “but I have every faith that the Coalition is more than capable of dealing with any mishaps.”

In her head, Esther saw the gargantuan creature Bartholomew conjured over Lumen to repel their attempts to seize the gateways, his gateways. The plumes of the factories stood no chance against the professor’s wrath, and neither did anyone below.

He commanded a power greater than any she had ever witnessed. With a wave of his hand he could stop their suffering, yet she knew his stance on meddling in the governance of other worlds. It was due to a Prosperian agreement, history books explained, that compelled them to refrain from interfering with the affairs of others. The beings of the first rescued world understood the power they held, the lengthy lives they led and the view of them as deities, and avoided prying into matters that did not concern them directly.

Too tired to argue with him, she relinquished the point and finished her dessert. As the discussion turned to research developments, Alek nudged her arm. A soft, supportive glance passed between them, and Oscar’s own unspoken solace reached her from the other side of the table, quiet, consoling, and unflinching.

* * *

Past the convex window of the upper floor drawing room and the laboratory district, night dressed the city in an umbra haze. Steady light illuminated the streets, and dual orbs hurtled down the highway in coordinated rows. The cityscape cut into the spectacle of stars, towers jutting into the sky and the weighted rotation of the world shifting the celestial stretches ever onward.

Reflected in the bowed glass, Oscar tucked his legs onto the sofa, absorbed by the sketchpad in his lap and foot tapping along to a melody only he could hear.

“What are you working on?” Esther asked, drifting from the resting city to collapse onto the plush cushions.

“Interplanetary outstations,” Oscar said. “With the gateways stable and space travel gaining popularity, Lord Luceras wants to make sure there are plenty of points between each world where ships can refuel, get emergency help, repair faults, that kind of thing. But we need to be strategic about it to avoid wandering into airspace we have no permission to be in, and it’s crucial Sanctus stays off-limits. Bartholomew insists that it is not safe in that sector.”

“If people want to see it, there is little you can do to stop them,” Esther reasoned. “Sanctus is strange, to say the least.”

“Regardless, we don’t want to end up making it easier for people to get there.”

His pencil scratched and shapes combined to form a central hollow disc, the uppermost section blooming into a mushroom formation and the lower segment narrowing into a needle-sharp point. Speckles of magic gave the station a distinct flicker, holding the future of space travel in the peripheral glow. “Can Professor Spark not cast a spell over the planet to make it impossible to travel there?” she pondered.

“I doubt anyone has that power,” Oscar said, his sketching coming to a gradual halt as the picture built to its final form. “It would make my job a damn sight easier if he could. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who ignore barriers and construction signs, and simply wander in.”

“See,” Esther smiled. “Can’t curb curiosity.”

“Yours we can’t, that’s for sure.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“As if you would ever let us forget it,” Oscar laughed, handing her his sketchbook and motioning for her to take a closer look. “I might pitch the third design for the station between Solgarde and The Core.”

Treating his work with the courtesy and respect it deserved, Esther thumbed through the drawings one by one. Armed with only blank paper and a pencil, he had created a vision of hope. Nobody else had seen these yet, those souls slumbering securely beneath a starlit sky had no clue how hard he worked for them, providing a lasting legacy that would preserve their livelihoods for generations. “When you rushed your final year at the Academy, I thought you were making a mistake,” she admitted, “but seeing this, the work you are doing, I know now you made the right decision.” She browsed a couple more outlines before returning to the sketch of the proposed meeting point between the central world and their home. “I don’t think I could be prouder of you if I tried.”

Stifling the line of tears teetering on his lashes, Oscar flung his arms around her. He had avoided home to escape the miserable sentiment on departing, but moments with his friends like this made every wistful farewell worth it. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed into a suppressed sniffle. “I get the situation with your blood family is... well, it’s none of my business, but you have a family right here with us. We’re here for you, Esther. Through thick and thin, and everything in-between, we will always be together.”

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