Chapter Text
“This is your home, Magnus. This is Raven’s Roost, and you are so, so happy here…"
Magnus strained to identify the voice. He was sure it belonged to someone he knew - someone important. He just couldn’t figure out who. He squinted, trying to make out some clue through the mist, but it was too dense for anything more than a vague outline. He sensed the speaker drifting away.
“Raven’s Roost? That’s… That doesn’t… Who are you?” he said, without even processing he was doing it. He had had this dream, this conversation, so many times before. It felt more like reciting a script by now. And just like the speaker’s, his own voice sounded distant too. It was bleary and indistinct, and somehow slow and thick in his throat. He tried to reach out to the speaker, but his hand passed through the mist without catching on anything substantial or whole.
“Magnus, I’m sorry. I will never have words for how sorry I am, but this is for the best. I have to fix this. You’ll be safe here, and you’ll be loved.” The speaker - a woman? - paused here, and her voice sounded as if she were on the verge of tears. “I love you, Magnus. I know I don’t deserve it, but someday...someday, I hope you’ll understand, and that you’ll forgive me. For now, just be happy. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
He heard what might have been a sob, but the mist was too close around him, and everything felt heavy, sluggish. Not just the physical world, but in his head, everything seemed slowed too, seemed blurry around the edges, and hard to hold on to for more than a moment. A small part of him understood this, and fought against it, thrashed and screamed like a wild animal trying to escape a trap. But that part grew quieter, more distant, until he slipped into unconsciousness, into blackness and silence.
---
The air smelled wrong. It smelled like sawdust and wood oil and leather, Magnus thought as he drifted towards consciousness. He blinked sleepily, stretching and letting out a soft, long grumble.
It wasn’t that it smelled bad, he thought. It just wasn’t what he expected. He sat up in bed, the blanket puddled across his lap, and looked around. This was his room, with his clothes folded - sloppily - in the chest like always, and his tools in their roll on the side table like always, and the suns streaming in the window and painting the opposite wall gold like always.
Wait. Just one sun. What kind of world would have two? He felt the beginning of a small smile at the corner of his mouth just thinking about it. Just imagine rainbows from two suns.
The more he oriented himself, the less wrong the scents in the air seemed. He must have just had a really strange dream, is all. One vivid enough to stick with him even after he woke up, leaving ideas about worlds with two suns and air that smelled metallic and cold and strange, sad voices telling him...something. The details were slipping away faster and faster the more he tried to hold on to them.
“Wake up, Mr. Burnsides! You can’t earn your keep if you’re sleeping like the dead!” a voice boomed from the other side of the door, and a rich, warm laugh followed after it.
That was Steven Waxman, the man with whom Magnus owned and ran the Hammer and Tongs, the wood- and metal-working shop downstairs. Magnus remembered liking him instantly when they had first met six years ago. Steven was level-headed and measured in his actions in a way that Magnus had admired, but never really managed in his own life, always rushing in. They worked well together, each balancing the other.
He pulled on his clothes and scrubbed at his face with water from the basin on the table, trying to smooth his thick, curly hair into something resembling neatness.
“Is he still asleep?” another voice drifted up to the hallway as he shut the door behind him and started down the stairs. “Ah, good morning!”
She stood by the landing, a broad, easy smile stretched across her tanned face. Julia, Steven’s daughter, waved to him and stepped into the shop to clear his way.
“Were you talking about me?”
She laughed. “Only that we were surprised you weren’t down here already. The sun’s been up for ages and we’re nearly ready to open. Did you not sleep well?”
Magnus shook his head, feeling a grin on his face to match hers. He had all but forgotten the strange dreams, the solid predictability of reality too much for them to withstand. He set himself to the comfortable, familiar motions of readying the shop for business, pulling on his apron and stuffing his face with the plate of toast set out for him.
“You eat like a bear, you know,” she said, picking up the little stone crock of butter and the dirtied knife. “No one’s going to run up and snatch the food from your hands.”
He inhaled the last bite and feigned a deep, gravelly growl that dissolved into laughter, watching Julia shake her head as she went into the back of the shop. The light from the window caught in her hair, glints of red and copper in with the mahogany brown. Dimly, Magnus heard Steven calling for him to finish his breakfast and get to work.
It was easy to slip back into his routine, to shake off any lingering strangeness of the dream. He’d had to do it a few times over the years he’d lived with the Waxmans. Early on, it seemed like it happened every few days, but gradually, the dreams came less often. Sometimes, it would be the woman’s voice. Sometimes, shrieks of breathless laughter on a beach. Other times, he would wake up gasping for breath, clutching at his throat and face, feeling as if a massive stone slab had replaced his heart and lungs. But the worst ones were the dreams where he tried to save...someone. Friends? Family? From an inescapable darkness that swallowed everything in its path. A shadow too enormous and horrifying to think about any more than he had to.
So he didn’t.
Instead, he focused on the final touches of a keepsake box he was making for a customer. She’d come in the week before, asking for something special for her friend - they’d been apart for a while and she wanted to bring him something when she returned. The entire time, Magnus had tried to place her face, to piece together why she looked so familiar. She had dark, smooth skin and countless silvery braids twisted up in a knot. Something about her expression had seemed so sad, almost heartbroken, even though she had a small, quiet smile the entire time they spoke. Really, everything about her had been odd, down to the white oak staff she carried.
The box was nearly done, with the magic symbols the woman had asked for already carved into the sides and a warm, cherry stain already worked into every inch. All that was left was to add the lining - a velvet the woman had given him to use, precisely the same shade of blue of her dress. Maybe it was her friend’s favorite color? He smiled, picking up a tiny paintbrush and a pot of adhesive, both almost comically delicate in his rough, large hands.
No matter the task, it was always the final steps that were his favorite. Seeing a project through to the very end, putting his heart into it, and knowing that soon it would bring someone some measure of joy, was easily the most satisfying thing Magnus could imagine.
With slow, smooth strokes of the brush, he readied the inside of the box for the lining. He had just eased the fabric in properly when the bell over the front door jangled, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Magnus,” the woman in the doorway said, “Meeting tonight. Joq’s place. Soon as he closes up the smithy for the night.”
She left without another word, jangling the bell again as she closed the door behind her. Ylaine wasn’t ordinarily the type to stick around and chat, but she had seemed even more brusque than usual. The shadows beneath her eyes had seemed darker and broader than before. Magnus felt a knot begin to form in his stomach. He had a suspicion about the topic of the night’s meeting. He hoped he was wrong.
---
After sending a delivery boy off with the finished keepsake box, Magnus threw himself into work on an order of chairs. The sanding was repetitive and mindless enough to draw him into a sleepy sort of hypnosis while the early afternoon sun came in through the windows, painting the everything gold and lulling him into a comfortable drowsiness as the shop grew warmer. The knot from earlier had all but untwisted itself, and he felt the anxious crease between his brows ease. He felt his hand slowing its motion over the spindle that was to be part of the chair, and his eyelids growing heavier, more difficult to keep up. No harm would come from a moment of rest, a small afternoon nap. He blinked one last time before -
“You’re not going to Joq’s without me this time.”
Magnus sat bolt upright, all drowsiness gone. Inches from his face, staring directly at him, were Julia’s dark brown eyes. Her jaw was set and her brows drawn close in determination, and she did not waver.
“Are you sure?” He had wondered how long it would be before she came to him about this. He’d always known it was coming, but he still didn’t like it. Joq’s meetings were always one wrong word away from being outed, and all of them being taken to the governor’s estate, never to be heard from again. Magnus met her gaze. “I’m a damn fool for going already. You probably shouldn’t be anywhere near any of them. Not tonight, at least. Something feels off.”
She laughed - a short, sharp sound dripping with sarcasm.
“It’ll never be safe. We’re not safe now, sitting here in this shop. The whole point is to make Raven’s Roost safe by finally doing those brave and wonderful things you all talk about doing at Joq’s. I’m going whether you like it or not,” she said before pausing, her face softening a little, “but Magnus? I’d rather you weren’t against it, if I had the choice.”
He set down the spindle and the sander on his workbench, balling his hands up on his knees. When he looked at Julia’s face, he didn’t see any doubt, any hesitation. She had made up her mind, and telling her no to keep her safe would be pointless - he could see that plain as day. Besides, he wasn’t her father, and she was a grown woman who could - and did - make her own choices. Not for the first time, he was struck by her bravery, and her need to do what she thought was right for others, not just for herself. He took her hands in his. They were small, but calloused and strong. She wasn’t a fragile little girl.
“Promise me, once we’re there, that you’ll listen to me if something goes wrong. If we’re found out, and I tell you to run, you do it. There’s no shame in surviving to regroup and continue the work another day.”
“I’ll run if you run,” she said, and the look in her eyes told Magnus she would hear no argument on the matter. She knew full well that he would never run from a fight, and they were too much alike in that.
---
The streets of Raven’s Roost weren’t exactly empty after dark, but it was a different sort of crowd than when the sun was shining overhead. No families, no children, and no smiles as passers-by.
Magnus frowned, wrapping his hand around Julia’s and holding it tight. That his home had come to this - it opened up a pit in the bottom of his stomach, made his chest go tight. What they were doing was the right thing. At least, he hoped so.
As they rounded a corner near the end of the Craftsmen’s Corridor, the dim window of Joq’s shop came into view. He felt Julia’s hand squeeze his, but her face was in shadow beneath her hood, so he couldn’t tell if it was anticipation or anxiety.
They slipped in through the side door, their breathing measured and their steps soft as cats. It wasn’t until they hit the landing at the bottom of the staircase that Magnus got a good look at Julia’s face, illuminated by torchlight. There was a small, fierce smile on her lips, and he would swear he could feel the thundering of her heartbeat in the pulse in her wrist. Or maybe that was his own he was feeling.
“You ready?” he said.
She nodded, that small smile broadening and the tense line between her brows smoothing out. He opened his mouth, about to offer her a final out - secretly hoping she would take it - before a massive hand clapped him on the back, snapping his attention away.
“Magnus! Who’s this lady friend you’ve brought? She’s - ah, Julia!” Joq pulled them both into a crushing embrace, his smile nearly feral in its wide-stretched enthusiasm and gleaming brilliance.
Joq was a farrier, and an enormous house of a man. Bombastic and welcoming and warm, but much cleverer than he liked to let on, he was the unofficial head of their efforts, and the host of the night’s meeting.
“Find me at the end of the night, will you? I’ve got something important to talk over with you,” he said, his eyes intense and fixed on Magnus. Then, in an instant, he was back to his light hearted grin and peeled off to greet more newcomers.
Eventually, the storage room filled up. There were people from all over Raven’s Roost, not just the Craftsmen’s Corridor. Word of their effort had spread, and there were people from the Artisan’s Alley, the Market Square, the Rookery, everywhere. On the one hand, more support meant a better chance of success against the soldiers. On the other...the more people who knew a secret, the more likely the wrong person was to find out. Magnus shifted his weight from one foot to the other and moved to crack the joints of his fingers, only to notice Julia’s hand still entwined tightly with his. She looked up at him curiously, and he felt a sudden flop in his stomach.
Ylaine appeared at the front of the room, her short, black hair in her face and her mouth set in a tight line. She rapped her knuckles sharply on a wooden block, calling the meeting to order. The room fell silent, dozens of pairs of eyes fixed on her.
The first twenty minutes or so were taken up bringing the newcomers up to speed. Raven’s Roost had had enough. Their governor, Kalen, had made so many promises, had seemed to herald a better, brighter future for their little town in the sky, but every one of those promises had been broken. Instead, he had grown paranoid and controlling, distancing himself from those around him who had supported and advised him. He was drawing power inward towards himself and lashing out at those who defied him. He had dismissed the town guard, all of whom had been loyal to the people for years. Overnight, he had replaced them all with hired soldiers from a faraway country - people who fought for gold only, and had no loyalty or love for Raven’s Roost or its citizens. Entire families were vanishing after voicing objections, and some had been seen being taken in the night, stolen away to the governor’s estate, presumably to be thrown in the cells beneath the manor.
What they had lacked before was a solid plan of action. So far, it had been defensive - looking after those most at-risk from Governor Kalen’s policies, helping them escape if necessary. It was unsustainable, though. It seemed that every week, he chose a new group to target in a desperate bid to cling to every scrap of power he had. What Kalen had in thoughtless, mindless cruelty, he lacked in foresight. The more people you turn against, the more people turn against you. By now, the only ones who didn’t want him gone were the soldiers he paid handsomely to carry out his wishes.
This was the point of the night’s meeting, Ylaine told them. The soldiers weren’t from Raven’s Roost. They didn’t know its secrets, didn’t understand it in the way that the people who grew up here did. With enough support from enough townspeople, Ylaine and Joq were confident Kalen could be ousted. Here, Ylaine gestured to her husband, who stepped to the forefront. His usual enthusiasm was there, but it felt sharper, keener, honed like a blade.
“I’m glad to see people from all over our town here tonight,” Joq began, his eyes seeking out the heads of each group with an approving gleam. “We will need all of you for what’s to come. You see - ”
There was a deafening blast from above, and a support beam in the ceiling collapsed, raining dust and shards of wood on everyone below. There were screams and the sounds of heavy boots and sharp, shouted orders as everyone who could run did.
There were three hidden ways out of the storage room, and people scattered like rats in an effort to escape from the soldiers who had discovered their meeting place.
Everything slowed for Magnus. He looked around at the scene. The beam had fallen near him, pinning two beneath it - an elf woman and a human man. He was there in an instant, lifting it off of them. And there was Julia, pulling them from beneath it as soon as he had created a gap. Their eyes met for a moment, and they nodded, understanding the other without a word. Once the elf and human were out and standing, Magnus pulled Julia out of the room and they herded the stragglers along a series of tunnels carved into the stone foundations of the town, far from Joq and Ylaine’s smithy and the soldiers who had descended upon it.
Julia was the more familiar with the tunnel system, having played in it for years as a child. She was sure-footed and confident, leading the group with her hair streaming out behind her and her voice low but reassuring. Magnus brought up the rear, making sure no one was left behind or lost. If someone stumbled, he was there in an instant to steady them, to keep the group going and keep them all safe. Something about this - running from danger in the darkness - felt horribly familiar, but he pushed the thought away. There wasn’t time to analyze that when he had a task at hand.
Once they had put enough distance between them and the soldiers, leading the members of their group back to the entrances nearest their homes, the enormity of what had just happened struck them. They had made it out, but Joq and Ylaine were as good as dead.
Kalen knew.