Two for the Price of One

A soft knock on the door disturbed her rest. She glanced at the door of her hospital room, and weakly welcomed the guest with a “come in.” Her voice was soft, weak, and frail. A tall, well-dressed man carefully opened the door and smiled at the girl who laid upon the hospital bed. He took a few steps into the room and presented a gorgeous and colorful bouquet of spring-flowers to the girl.

“Livia, darling, I brough you these, they reminded me of your smile.”

She smiled weakly at him.

“Cyrus… you didn’t have to, I told you I’m fine.”

He smirked confidently and swapped the withering flowers in the vase with the fresh bouquet. His gaze darted to a 2nd bouquet in a different vase, similar flowers as the ones he brought.

“Family been visiting?”

She nodded softly.

“Brother Ken was here… he left just minutes before you arrived.”

“Ah… Shame I missed him.”

She closed her eyes, letting out a tired sigh.

“It’s fine, you’ll meet him yet.”

Cyrus walked around the bed and sat beside her, taking her hand into his. Shortly after she dozed off.

Cyrus remained by her side for few hours longer and then departed. He left her room, and walked toward the stairs, a man rushed past him, brushing his shoulders both let out an annoyed groan.

“Soz pal, in a rush.” Called out the man that was sprinting up the stairs. He was about the same height as Cyrus, dark, long hair – tied up into a ponytail.

Cyrus sighed.

“mhmmm.”

And continued on his way, pondering. His beloved Livia was bedridden in a hospital with an illness, and so their star-fire gazing plans were cancelled. Star-fire being the new year’s night, a night of the most grandiose, magical, firework show in all of Rosalind, and her room’s windows were facing West, but the show was always over the river, on the East side of the town. He wasn’t about to let that go. Livia loved fireworks, and he wanted to gift her that smile, a truly unforgettable experience. After all, joy is the best medicine.

He headed to the tavern in search of answers. Wizards, or pyro-techs, whatever the cost, he would bring the show to her, or, at least, put it on where she could see it from the window of her room.

Ken knocked quietly on the door – no response. He twisted the door handle and pushed it open.

“Sis?”

Only a gentle snore could be heard in response. She was fast asleep. He snuck into the room and grabbed his bag that he had left behind. He shot a quick glance at his sleeping sister, and then another one out the window at the dark vastness beyond it.

“Don’t worry sis… I got this.” He whispered before departing.

The majority of that night Cyrus spent questioning regulars at the tavern for intel on wizards for hire or pyrotechnics that might be available for the star-fire night. And while most of the regulars at the tavern proved to be less than useful and knowledgeable, a few gave good pointers as to what he could do and look for. One such pointer was a magical scroll that got his eyes sparkling. ‘Faery-Fire in the Night’ was the name that was whispered to him in hush, under the veil of the shadows.

A scroll that was crafted once per year for the city by the grand-wizards, that was the highlight of the show, and took half a year to prepare. When Cyrus left the tavern, and when all was clear. Ken slowly lifted his head from the table.

‘Faery-fire huh? Sounds promising’ He grinned. Such a scroll would be stored at the library, and he had just the contacts to get in, although now he also realized he had competition for it and had to act fast to get his hands on it before the competitor.

Dawn broke and Cyrus found himself in a place he never expected he’d return to. The ‘Black hats’ den. He knocked on a big metallic door.

“Whomst?” replied a tired voice.

“One that walks through shadows and threads on blades.”

Cyrus replied.

“That’s the old password, Cyrus. Try again.”

“Oh gods damn it Ravi open the door before I bash it in along with your skull.”  

The door was opened, and he was guided to the ‘top hat’, the one in charge of the black hats. Whether his hat was, in fact, blackest of all, remains a mystery and a debate among the scholars to these days.

“Cyrus, tired of the boring life are you?”

The man shook his head and rubbed his stubble.

“Nah, no way… but… I need some intel.”

“Hoho?”

Cyrus scanned the current top hat up and down. It was an older man, in his mid-forties perhaps. A graying beard, gelled hair, and of course, a black top hat that rested on the table beside him. Cyrus remembered him as the former top hat’s assistant, Karl, he was always more of a butler, so seeing him in a position of power was a surprise to say the least, but he wasn’t here to judge.

“I call for one of my two owed favors…” Cyrus demanded, laying down a pin on the table and sliding it toward the top hat.

The top hat glanced at it.

“Calling in one of the two favors huh? A matter of life and death is it?”

Cyrus shook his head.

“A matter of seeing the most precious smile in the world to me. I seek the Faery-Fire in the Night scroll… The city’s Star-fire celebration scroll.”

Karl nodded.

“Foolish…”

Cyrus shrugged.

“As would you be for denying my request.”

Karl turned in his chair and glanced at the map of the city.

“We walk in the shadows and keep this city alive unbeknownst to the citizens of it… Without us the guards wouldn’t know where to look. Without us, there would also be no crimes.”

He sighed.

“But even we don’t mess with the Grand Library, Cyrus… You know that, right?”

Cyrus nodded.

“Yea… but I’ll go to any length to get that damned scroll. She wishes to see the fireworks…”

“Ah… she….”

The top hat nodded slowly, reaching for his black in color, top hat and putting it on slowly.

“Love causes us to be most reckless and fearless huh? Well, alright then.”

Karl grabbed a piece of paper and proceeded to scribble something on it for a short while, and then handed it over to Cyrus.

“This… will help you halfway, the rest is up to you.”

What he received was a piece of paper with a scribbled, inherent mess of a ‘map’ if one could call it so. It had numbers on it, directions that were written in a nonsensible manner and the map seemingly required to be folded in various patterns for the random lines to make any kind of sense and semblance of rooms and corridors.

“What is any of this…?”

Inquired Cyrus after a short examination of the map.

“The Grand Library my friend… it’ll make more sense when you see it.”

Like any sensible thief, Cyrus waited for nightfall to begin his excursion. He made his way to the library plainly, inconspicuously, as the first step that was written on the map was ‘get to the library and find the service stairwell for the non-wizards.’ He had never been to the Grand Library before, namely because it only exists for a month around this time of the year, and he never had a desire to see the inside of a place that phases out of existence for 90% of the year.

Everything the Top Hat told him suddenly made sense, or, quite the opposite – nothing he was seeing made any sense. The moment he stepped through the doors of the Grand Library, he got hit on the head by a quill that proceeded to slap him with its feather, and then raced off after a scroll that was mocking it. He followed the quill and his jaw dropped, he marveled at the endlessly spanning tower that reached for the skies.

‘Why are there skies indoors actually?’ he caught himself pondering, but each question that bubbled up in his mind was quickly replaced by another one. ‘Why is that man walking on the wall and that one there walking on thin air?’ The more he looked around, the more questions he had.

The receptionist at the desk made eye contact with him. He gasped, but then regained his composure, he faked his confidence and gave her a reaffirming nod, and then walked right past the reception desk, pretending to be well accustomed to the library. He made his way past the reception desk into the commons area where he proceeded to search for doors, stairs, anything that’d help him traverse the tower.

A man with long black hair in a ponytail, and a long black coat, walked past him, talking with what Cyrus assumed to be one of the library staff. She was a younger girl, tall, blonde, in purple robes. Cyrus listened carefully.

“Right this way, stay with me, archives are quite dangerous.”

Cyrus thought he recognized that ponytail but couldn’t quite recall where it was from. He called out to the purple-robed girl.

“Pardon, uh, non-wizard stairs?”

She gestured to her right with her hand.

“That way past the Religion of Creation section, against the wall, pat the owl 3 times.”

When they passed him, he went on his way, only to realize that ‘pat the owl 3 times’ meant literally patting the owl, for there, by the wall, sat an owl, with a sign ‘pat me thrice and you shall pass.’

He patted the owl and the wall beside it parted. Beyond it were 2 staircases. One leading up, and one leading down. He glanced around, no one was in sight. He pulled out the hand-drawn mess of a map and read the directions.

‘Ascend almost halfway up the flight of stairs to the 2nd open floor. Stop 2 steps short of the midpoint, and then lean against the wall. On the mirror side head down to the archives until darkness consumes you. When such is done wait for an archivist to be passing by.’

He began to walk up the steps, careful with each step he took. Occasionally a wizard would pop out of the wall or phase into existence from thin air, brushing past him in a rush, occasionally kids would rush past him and then dash headfirst into a wall just to disappear before the impact. With each passing minute, his mind twisted in ways he couldn’t have imagined before. Each abnormality he witnessed somehow felt more normal than the previous.

Until at last he found himself standing in the middle of nowhere, consumed by darkness and fear. He wasn’t sure if there was a path before him, or if there had even been a floor beneath him or if he was standing on thin air, and he was too afraid to check. He remembered the instructions. ‘Await an archivist, follow their light.’ His head on a swivel he kept glancing around, but only darkness met his eye. He took a cautious step and paid for it with a bump on his head as he walked into something that was no longer there when he checked for it with his hands. He knelt suddenly when he heard voices.

“So, you’re an inspector huh?” A woman’s voice inquired.

“Yeah, here to check the defensive seals on the treasury, is all.” Replied a distant, somehow familiar, man’s voice.

Cyrus watched in the direction of the voices when a faint glow from the floor finally gave him hope. In the glow, off in the distance, amidst countless bookshelves he could see the man with a ponytail from before, walking along side the blonde girl in purple robes that he had seen earlier. He sneakily followed from a distance, following their light, stalking them from the shadows like a hunter.

Each time they stopped he would pull out the map and fold it up to get a rough idea of where he may have been. Although it hardly helped much, but from what he could tell, the drawn map was more of an escape path, and the written instructions were a means of getting to the treasury where the scroll he longed for, would be stored, along with other priceless artifacts. He followed them onwards for a long while longer.

At last, they rounded a corner and came into a well-lit room with a generic, weathered, wooden hatch in the floor, at the center of it. The man with ponytail glanced around and nodded.

“mhhh yes, warding seals are mighty strong here…” he lied.

The archivist bobbed her head at the hatch.

“After you, inspector.”

He smirked. “No no, the honor is all yours.”

Cyrus hid in the shadows, just around the corner, waiting. ‘If he takes the scroll, it’ll be easier to snatch it off of him.’ He concluded, awaiting the perfect opportunity, that never came.

With little hesitation the archivist unsealed the hatch and pried it open. The man leaped down into the hatch.

“Careful there, Inspector Ken, there are tr…” but before she could finish her sentence, a beastly roar echoed through the archive’s halls, and the man with ponytail flew out of the hatch, with his coat smoking.

“There’s a bloody dragon there…”

“No, actually it’s a fire dragonling, not a blood dragon.”

“Could’ve warned me sooner.” He exclaimed.

“But… I thought you wanted to test the safety measures, no?”

Remarked the Archivist girl with a sly grin.

“Why… yes of course.” He proclaimed confidently.

“Any other beasts to be aware of?” The archivist tilted her head to the side.

“A few unstable tomes from which various creatures randomly come to life… it’s the best defense we got. Shouldn’t be too bad though, unless… you get quite unlucky.”

He adjusted his coat.

“Right… I’ll be back in a blink.” And then leaped back into the hole. A puff of smoke, a beastly howl, some screams, a splash of water, and eventually an exhausted, wet, hand, reached out from inside the hole, and slammed down on the ground, and then another. In torn clothes and obviously winded, Ken reemerged from the hatch with a scroll in hand. The archivist watched him with an ever-bemused expression.

“Oh, inspector, you’re back.”

He collapsed on the floor, squeezing a scroll in his hand tightly.

“Phenomenal… defenses… I can confirm, no ordinary thief could ever get in there.”

She nodded at him.

“Indeed, good thing you’re no ordinary thief”

He nodded, confirming his guilt without realization.

“Yes… I’m quite spectacular.”

She ran her finger down his exhausted arm.

“Mhmm, not bad… Why do the Black Hats want the scroll?” She inquired.

“Wait what?” Called out Cyrus.

In that moment, Cyrus felt a bone chilling hand on his shoulder. It was small, and warm, but somehow the threat it posed frightened him to the core. He leaped out of the shadow into the light, crawling away in haste. From the shadows emerged a short, young girl, wearing glasses, dark hair, down to her shoulders, and purple robes. She took a few steps into the light and cocked her head to the side.

“My my, a couple of rogues and an archivist, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you got a strange love-triangle going on here, alas it would appear our little shadow-lovers are here not for your heart, Amelia.”

“Which could not be said about your little shadow-lover, hum? Clare?” Remarked the blonde girl in a sassy tone.

“At least MY little shadows weren’t after pleasing another girl.” after a moment of silence, Cyrus raised his hand up.

“Ahem… actually… I need that scroll for my loved one…”

Clare glanced at the scroll, firmly held by Ken.

“Over my dead body, I need it for my beloved sister.”

Clare glanced at Amelia and smirked.

“Oh yeah? Seems both are after pleasing another woman…”

Amelia sighed and shot a death glare at Ken who was still laying on the floor.

“What’s with you rogues and being after other women? Are we not good enough?”

Silence…

“Ahem, if you’d pardon me, how would we, rogues, who hide in the shadows, have any clues about you, archivists, who live in the shadows of the library…?”

Clare raised her hand up and half shrugged.

“He’s got a point…”

And while the archivists continued to argue over why rogues keep sneaking into their archives and how they are always trying to please somebody else instead of the girls they had just met at the archives, Ken snuck away, disappearing into the shadows, followed closely by Cyrus who, at every opportunity attempted to snatch the scroll.

Their struggle went on the rest of the night. And the following night. Cyrus stalked Ken through the night, neither knew that the other desired the scroll for the same reason. When the city’s fireworks went off, Ken unraveled the bindings on the scroll and unrolled it.

“At last! Livia will get to see this beauty! And not a single tear shall roll down her cheeks this night.”  

Livia sat in her room, staring out the window in the dark vastness, occasionally flashed by the lights of fireworks from the other side. A sad sigh escaped her lips as she leaned on her hand.

“Being sick sucks…”

A moment of silence was interrupted by a blinding flash of light, followed shortly by a thunderous roar of an explosion. She winced, shutting her eyes as the window shivered in its frame from the shockwave of the explosion. First of the night, but not the last. As she slowly reopened her eyes, off in the distance, in the dark of night, the air crackled, and a streak of light shot up into the air. Like a serpent shooting for the skies, it reaches for the stars through the darkness. The whole world seemingly froze in place as it marveled at this celestial serpent that took flight. Its shape slowly changed, acquiring the head of a dragon. She gasped in disbelief. Recognizing the streak of light as it changed shape, it was the city’s famous faery-fire, the most prominent firework to shoot off tonight, and it shot from the dead of a forest, at the wrong side of town. She pondered, her mind racing through the possibilities as to why it was shot from the forest and not the docks. 
Another bright flash and the following thunderclap shook the windows of the hospital once more. The streak of light exploded brightly, and post-explosion a dragon’s shape emerged from the flash of light, like a newborn phoenix emerging from the flames that rapidly extinguished. It flapped its mighty golden wings and climbed higher and higher with each motion. She stood by the window, speechless. Her hand on the glass, her jaw agape, her heart pounding from excitement and her eyes welling up. The dragon’s jaw opened as if letting out a roar.

From its mouth another explosion occurred, consuming the night sky and briefly, for a moment, turning night into day, ridding the world of darkness and shadows. She gasped at the sight. The whiteness faded, turning into snow that rushed toward the ground. Like a snowfall of falling stars, a marvelous sight of thousands of small falling-stars that spanned and covered the entire forest in its gorgeous glitter.  
She brought her trembling hand to her mouth to cover it, a tear rolling down her cheek, glistening in the glow of the star-fall show she was admiring. “Thank… you…” she whispered in a trembling voice. 

Audience prompts for this tale

• I think it would be fun to see some enemies to lovers arc…or at least enemies to allies

• a fireworks incident

• hmmmm…. an item with mystical powers that lies somewhere hidden

• Feels like we need some kind of setting for this. How about a magical capital of some country?