The Beginning of the End

Word had gotten out that Airi and Nestor were leaving. A crowd gathered at the south gate, and at the front of the crowd was a certain blond prince.

“So you’re leaving already,” he drawled. “I hear that you’ve decided to go to Magisbury. I could’ve sworn you told me you were going home.”

“I said we would go home eventually. I didn’t say we were going home right away,” Airi said.

“Are you certain you’ll make it to Magisbury?” Snow’s red eyes lingered on the basket of food and his mouth curled into a smirk. “It isn’t too late to go back to your little village now, while you’ve got the chance.”

Airi clutched the basket tighter. “We’ll make it.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Well, since you’re heading them anyways, you might as well deliver this letter for me.” Snow unfolded a letter from his trailing sleeve. It had a gold seal on it. “It goes without saying that you mustn’t read it or open it or tamper with it in any way.”

Nestor caught the letter. “Who’s it for?”

“My father. I will be awaiting his response. Don’t disappoint me.” With a haughty jerk of his chin, Snow turned and strode away, leaving the townspeople of Stormhaven to wave goodbye to Nestor and Airi. These people hadn’t wanted to let them in, but they seemed more than happy to see them leave.

"Watch out for monsters!" someone called.

Airi’s first thought after stepping outside was, It’s dark.

In contrast to the sunny streets, it was raining hard, as if night had fallen. Sheets of rain drowned out any sound from Stormhaven. Good thing the books were stowed away, or they would have been ruined.

Airi turned back. The gates were already closed. She had half a mind to toss the prince’s letter into the nearest puddle, but it would be a good excuse to visit the palace. They hurried along the river’s churning edge while clouds thundered overhead.

Eventually, the river snaked into a forest. Under the trees, the rain was less intense. Nestor used The Naughty Little Kettle to dry their clothes, and they ate lunch in the dripping shelter of a tree.

“That town was pretty weird,” Nestor said.

“Yeah. Everyone practically worshipped that annoying prince.” Airi sighed. “Although he must have a lot of mana, to be able to protect the whole town from storms like this.”

Nestor tilted his head. “Not really.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to have a lot of mana if you have a good spellbook. Or he might be really good at controlling his mana.”

Airi sat up straight, her apple forgotten. “So could you do the same thing? With a good spellbook?”

“Well, I can’t control my mana that well. I get scared easily.” Nestor looked at the holes in his shoes. “But I’ve been practicing in secret.”

Right. In secret.

“Nestor... there’s something I’ve been wondering.”

“What?”

“Why doesn’t your mom want you to become a mage? I feel like everyone loves mages.”

“My mom hates mages,” Nestor said. “Ever since my dad died.”

Oh.

Airi’s mind flashed to a windowless hospital room. She remembered Mom’s smile under that umbrella. Maybe she and Nestor weren’t so different after all.

Nestor fiddled at the spine of River Runs Away. “He’d go off to the plains for days and days. He had this crazy idea that he could become a mage if he broke off a piece of a fallen star, since they're made out of mana.”

“Anyways, they found him by the lake. They said a monster killed him.” His eyes found hers. “It was near the lake where we found you. We were going to put flowers on Dad’s grave.”

“Nestor, I... I didn’t know.” Airi remembered seeing a bouquet of red-and-orange flowers. So that hadn't been part of her feverish hallucinations.

“It was a good omen.” Nestor managed a small smile. “Because you’re the first person other than Dad who believes in me.” He grabbed her left hand, the one without the crystal glove. “You’re the best friend I ever had.”

“You know what?” Airi thought of Kazuko. There had been other girls before her, girls whose names Airi barely remembered. She thought of the fake smiles and barbed words. “You’re the best friend I ever had, too.”

And that was no lie.

The rain stopped, leaving the path damp. They left the trees and arrived in an open countryside, where the river surged alongside a wide dirt road. There were fields of crops on both sides of the river.

The sun was sinking when they heard a clatter of wheels behind them. Airi felt her whole body stiffen.

“Whoa there!” The farmer pulled on the reins, and the horse slowed to a stop.

“A real cart!” Nestor breathed. Airi just stared at the cart, breathing hard. It was only a wooden cart, with piles of golden wheat in the back. Nothing like a sports car.

The farmer grinned. “Sure is, little fella. Are you two lost?” His eyes fell on the book in Nestor’s hands and his white cloak. “You’re... don’t tell me. You’re a mage?”

“I’m only studying,” Nestor said.

“Pardon me. I didn’t know,” the farmer said, tipping his hat. “Where you headed? Magisbury? Let me give you a ride.”

“You’re also going to Magisbury?” Nestor asked.

“I’m delivering this wheat to Harveston, but it’s no trouble.”

Airi and Nestor climbed into the back of the cart, and they rattled over the country road for hours. The wheat made a comfortable seat, and the landscape started to look the same: square fields, dirt paths, one or two houses. The sun sank lower and lower in the sky and finally disappeared altogether.

That night, up in the violet sky, a red star wobbled in its place and fell, trailing red sparks. It sank lower and lower until it disappeared behind the jagged mountains. Neither Airi nor Nestor noticed, being fast asleep, but two twin mages in Magisbury had their dark eyes fixed on the sky.

“Another one?” scowled the first twin. Her fiery orange hair fell down her back in a jellyfish-like hairstyle.

The other twin, who had ghostly white hair that dripped down in the same jellyfish-like hairstyle, still wore a smile. “And so soon after the last one. This means trouble.”

They exchanged looks: one scowling, one smiling, but both had sparks of worry in their eyes.

“Let’s tell Prometheus,” they said in unison.

And they ran to find the elderly gray-bearded mage, who sat in his study, still compiling notes about fallen stars. High above them, amidst the bright stars, a few quivered dimly—pink, yellow, orange, green. Where the red star had been, there was only a spot of murky darkness.