The carriage rocks gently beneath me as we make our way back to the castle, the rhythm of hooves on packed earth lulling me into a comfortable daze. My ankle still tingles with phantom pain from the trap, though Luna’s healing magic left no trace of the injury. Brooke sits beside me, her head resting on my shoulder, her breathing slow and even. Across from us, Matilda and Morgana share the opposite bench, while Luna perches on a small seat near the door, her white eyes staring at nothing.
“Hey Morgana,” Matilda says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Didn’t your old master make you practice in caves when she was mad at you?”
Morgana chuckles, the sound rich and warm in the confined space. “Yeah, Vespera would get really upset with me anytime I’d get in bar fights and use magic.”
Matilda laughs, the sound booming in the small carriage. “Didn’t Vespera have two students? It was you and some other girl with red hair... some sad looking girl.”
Morgana’s eyes go distant, her fingers absently tracing patterns on her dark robes. “Yeah... Vana Blazenfield...”
The name hangs in the air between them, heavy with unspoken history. I watch Morgana’s face, noting the subtle tightening around her eyes, the way her lips press into a thin line.
“What happened to her?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Morgana rolls her eyes, her purple gaze drifting to the carriage window. “Vana was an alright mage. Nothing special.”
“An alright mage?” Matilda scoffs, leaning forward on the bench. The leather creaks under her weight. “Your master is the greatest mage this world has ever seen, Morgana. There’s no way Vespera would have taken on anyone who wasn’t exceptional.”
Morgana lets out a long, dramatic groan, her head tipping back against the carriage wall. “Yeah, fine. Vana was a good mage.” She waves a hand dismissively. “But she was so dramatic. Like, insufferably dramatic. She’d just sit around all day talking about how sad the world was, how the goddesses had forsaken us, how everything was pointless and bleak.” She mimics a mopey voice, her dark lips pulling into a sneer. “Oh, Morgana, don’t you think the goddesses hate us? Don’t you think we’re all just puppets in some cruel game?”
Brooke stirs against my shoulder, her blue eyes cracking open.
“She used to talk all the time about running away and becoming a clown,” Morgana continues. “Like, joining some traveling circus. Said at least clowns made people smile, which was more than she could say for herself.” She snorts. “A clown. With her noble mana pool. Can you imagine?”
I find myself curious. “Why was she like that?”
Morgana’s expression shifts, the sarcasm draining from her face like water through a sieve. She stares at her hands, her fingers laced together in her lap.
“She fell for some cursed man,” she says quietly. “Branded.” She pauses, her jaw working. “I think she said he ended up killing himself. He got tired of being treated like shit by everyone. Or maybe he just couldn’t take it anymore. I honestly forget the details.”
The carriage falls silent. Brooke sits up straight beside me, her hand finding mine under the blanket. Matilda stares out the window, her scarred face unreadable. Even Luna seems to be paying attention, her white eyes fixed on Morgana with that unsettling stillness.
“One day, Vespera sent us out on a job,” Morgana says, her voice dropping lower. She goes quiet for a long moment, her fingers tightening around each other. “It was a really bad job.”
The way she says it sends a chill down my spine.
“Once we finished,” she continues, barely above a whisper, “Vana just left. Didn’t even come back to the castle. I never saw her again.”
I lean forward. “What was the job?”
Morgana shakes her head. Her purple eyes meet mine, and for the first time since I’ve known her, I see something raw and guarded in them.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says.
The carriage rocks over a bump in the road, and the silence that follows feels like a living thing. Heavy. Suffocating. Brooke’s hand tightens around mine, and I can feel the tension radiating through her body.
Matilda clears her throat. “Morgana…“
“Don’t,” Morgana cuts her off, her voice sharp as a blade.
Matilda nods once, a short, sharp gesture. She turns back to the window, and the conversation dies there, buried under the sound of hooves and wheels.
The carriage finally rolls to a stop in the castle courtyard. My body aches from the journey. Brooke stretches beside me, her joints popping audibly as she yawns. I’m the first to step out, my boots hitting the cobblestones with a soft thud.
The night air hits me like a cool embrace after the stuffy carriage. I look up, taking in the vast expanse of stars above us. The moon hangs full and bright, casting silver light across the castle grounds. But there’s something else up there, something I’ve never noticed before.
“What the...” I whisper, my eyes widening.
The sky isn’t just filled with stars. It’s littered with... stuff. Thousands of tiny points of light moving in slow patterns. Some move faster than others. Others cluster together in dense clouds, reflecting the moonlight in eerie, pulsing patterns.
“What’s that stuff in the sky?” I ask, pointing upward.
Morgana steps out of the carriage behind me, her dark robes billowing in the night breeze. She follows my gaze, her purple eyes reflecting the celestial display.
“Oh, those are ancient magic artifacts.”
“What?” I turn to face her, my brow furrowed in confusion.
She tilts her head back, her long black hair cascading down her back as she studies the sky. “I’m not sure how long ago... long enough ago no living elf ever met them. There were ancient magic users. And they took to the sky.”
“What?” I say again, unable to process what she’s telling me.
Morgana laughs, the sound soft in the quiet night. “It’s just a story, Christopher. But sometimes those shooting stars land and we get to see some ancient magic up close.”
“Is it cool?”
“I’ve never seen one up close,” Morgana admits, her voice carrying a hint of wistfulness.
“Come on,” Brooke says, tugging at my arm. “I’m exhausted.”
I let her pull me toward the castle entrance, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the sky. There’s something hauntingly beautiful about it, all those ancient artifacts floating up there. I wonder what they are.
“Christopher?” Brooke’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Sorry,” I say, finally looking away from the sky. “Just thinking.”
“About what?” she asks, her blue eyes searching mine.
“About how little we know about this world,” I say honestly. “About how much we still have to learn.”
She smiles at me. “We’ll figure it out together.”