Ideworld Chronicles: The Art Mage

Day in the story: 16th December (Tuesday)

I turned to Malik, who was moving through the crowd beside me.

"He's detained by the FBI in connection with Jason's disappearance. He was the last person seen with him," I answered.

"I get it. We'd better get Jason back then."

"That would be the preferable outcome," I said, pushing a zombie aside to clear my path. It felt like moving through a concert crowd, except everyone was walking instead of standing still.

"I miss him. He's such a good guy," Malik said. I hadn't realized they'd bonded while I was asleep, but three days under constant pressure in an alien world is enough to forge ties.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine. They have nothing to hold him for, and even if they throw him in prison for some reason, I'll get him out."

"But he won't be able to study law then."

I checked Peter's card. He seemed to be waiting for interrogation to start.

"We can't always follow our plans, Malik. Sometimes adjustments have to be made."

"Yeah, ain't it the truth? I need to rethink my hero journey…" he said, unexpectedly sad. "Peter said it's something that needs to be done more responsibly."

"Listen, boy, I'm not an expert at heroic stuff," I said with a sigh. "Truth be told, I can hardly remember the last time I did something good for someone I didn't know."

Was it at the Memory Bridge? I helped that boy there. I also stopped those gangsters on the bridge when I tested my body-painted suit.

"You helped me back when the spider snowman chased me."

"I didn't do it for you. He was there, so I had to deal with him anyway—that's the truth, Malik. Sorry."

I remembered that scene vividly now: him jumping from the roof, a glint of silver shadowlight as he landed and ran toward us. Wait. Silver shadowlight? Was it Beatrice in her spiritual form back then, just as Penrose said she did? Could be. I pushed those thoughts aside—they didn't matter now, not if she was dead. Unless Penrose lied…

"I understand. Don't you feel bad about yourself? Being selfish like that?"
Difficult questions, for a difficult walk. That's the theme of my walks in the Ideworld by now. Fantastic, right?

"I do feel a bit down lately, Malik, but not for that reason. I don't feel like I need to be a hero—that's not me, and I don't think that will change anytime soon. But I do think I need to open myself a bit. I feel trapped behind my training, my reservations, even my art. I feel like I could be more if I changed somehow. But it's not easy to see what needs to change to make yourself better."

"I think you already did a bit. You trusted Nick to lead us. You trusted me to protect Nick under the dome, even though I didn't do anything, you still did."

"—and you trusted Peter to handle the FBI mess by himself," Nick added from my right.

"It's not polite to overhear, Nick. Don't get too close to the fire, or you'll get burned."

"I'll heal it."

That earned a laugh from me. "I'd deal you emotional damage, Leben. It's hardly something you'd notice at first, let alone heal later."

"Funny much?"

Oh, I'd missed this banter between us. It had gotten lost along the way, and I was glad I'd started stumbling upon it again. Maybe not everything was lost. There was still a light at the end of my tunnel. Hopefully not another freight train.

As we drew closer to our target building, other skyscrapers began to rise around us. These, however, didn't stretch high enough to meet their counterparts in the city above. They ended where they should have—when their roofs touched the heavens. These were the structures that housed the zombies swarming all around us. Their doors stood permanently open, and people drifted in and out without any purpose except to keep moving, the way the city imagined us—humans doing the same in our own world.

Finally, about two hundred feet from One World Trade, we stepped free of the horde. They didn't approach this building—erected to commemorate tragedy, sacrifice, and the unity that followed. As I'd noticed before, the building stood alone, its twins predecessors long gone. It reflected the lives lost, and the families hollowed by those losses. Here, in the Mirrored City, the building was not just a monument. It was a god.

The moment we crossed the invisible threshold that kept the horde at bay, it was obvious: Authority dwelled here. You could feel it in the air—thick and deliberate. You could see it, too, in the form of a misty shadowlight swirling around us, responding to our every breath. Greyish-beige, like a shade some suburban mom might choose to paint her walls—a color unremarkable at first glance, yet somehow… breathtaking.

"Guys, first of all—I want us on the same page here. The fact we're here to get Jason out? It sucks. Sucks some major balls. I want him back, you all know I do. But this—" I spread my arms wide to take in the skyline, the impossible geometry, the looming monument before us. "This world is amazing. Even the menacing buildings do their menace in a splendorous way. I love it."

"You're crazy again?" Nick said, eyebrow arched. "Good," he added under his breath.

"You're happy the air is thick with the Solitary Twin's authority?" Caroline asked.

"I'm happy I get to witness it, no matter the circumstances. Don't you see it? Can't you feel it?" My pulse quickened. The air itself seemed alive against my skin. This was what I lived for—seeing the truth of the world. Here in this dream the city dreamt of itself, One World Trade wasn't just a building. It was a god and a cathedral, a Solitary Twin, radiating loneliness, solitude, unevenness, reflections—and Reality knows what else. Those were simply the truths I could name.

"That's the name?" Nick asked. "What does it do?"

"That's what we call it in the guild," Caroline said. "The Solitary Twin. We don't really know what it does as it's never been outright hostile to our delegations, but we've never gone inside. We meet its representatives out here." She pointed to the empty space before the towering shard of glass and steel.

"I hope you've all had your fill of the view," Nick cut in. "We need to find an outpost and make a plan."

I glanced back at the shimmering tower, itching to get closer.

"I was here with Peter before," Malik said. "There's an apartment on the second floor of that building. Empty of shadows. Just furniture." He pointed to a smaller structure nearby. Nick gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, and we started moving.

"Hey, lady," I said as we walked. "Why are some apartments completely empty? Like, no furniture at all, as if someone took minimalism to an extreme."

"You found one of those? Rare. People call them the Backrooms. An urban legend that spread like wildfire, popular enough that it reshaped the city here."

"I didn't ask for a history lesson," I said.

Nick and Malik shot me identical looks.

"But… it's appreciated," I added. "So what are they, exactly?"

"We don't really know. Step inside, and you'll find a labyrinth. Doors leading to places you don't expect, and exits that may open somewhere entirely different. Dangerous things live there. Best to avoid them."

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"Nuts. Love this already."

"You only love it because you can pretty much teleport out of anything," Nick teased.

He wasn't wrong. Not long ago, I avoided elevators like the plague. Now these mysterious places felt like they were pulling me in, without warning, and with only the barest hint of resistance from me.

We checked every apartment in the building Malik mentioned, but aside from the one he pointed out, all were occupied by shadows sitting at desks or scrolling endlessly through their phones, doing nothing else. It was unsettling enough that we didn't step inside any of them. Only in some cases did they actually speak with us after coming to the door.

Once we settled into Malik's chosen apartment, Nick unpacked dinner for everyone. Caroline let Loki out, and Malik spent a while playing with her while she went off to survey the rest of the building. I claimed the couch and began painting the scene. Another reference point for teleportation later.

Meanwhile, Peter's interrogation began. After the usual Miranda rights and the introduction of a state-appointed lawyer, I tuned in.

"Mr. Peter Stark," Sull began, his voice dripping with suspicion, "University security footage shows you entering the restroom with Mr. Jason Smith. Neither of you was seen exiting. Furthermore, records show your roommate and also a former resident of the same orphanage, Miss Alexandra May—running across campus at inhuman speed to enter the same restroom. She, too, never came out. Yet here you are, with both of them missing. We also have footage of you entering Mr. Smith's apartment the night before, not long after Miss May left. It seems clear the three of you are connected. So, please explain what happened in that restroom."

"Let it be clear," he began, "that I have been instructed by my counsel not to speak at all. But I've decided to testify anyway."

I've just been painting Malik patting Loki's golden head.

"I was warned by Alexandra May," Peter continued, "that her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Jason Smith, might be in danger if he came near any reflective surfaces."

"She threatened him?" Parker asked.

"No, she warned me. She's a mage, that—"

"She's what? Please, Mr. Stark, do not speak any further," a woman's voice cut in—likely Peter's attorney.

"I do not intend to hide anything, however implausible it sounds," Peter said firmly. "It is the truth."

Oh, poor Peter. I really thought he'd sit this one out and keep his mouth shut.

"Continue, Mr. Stark," Parker said, his tone unreadable. They didn't even pause at the mage revelation. Not surprising at all.

"So," Peter went on, "she warned me about a creature called the Unreflected. It can grab someone through a mirror and drag them into a parallel world called the Ideworld. Since I was nearby, my task was to make sure he'd be safe. I failed. And now he's inside One World Trade, in the Ideworld's Mirrored City."

"That's a lot of made-up words, Mr. Stark," Parker said dryly.

"Does it sound like a story invented to cover a crime? Wouldn't a lie be made to sound more believable?"

"I don't know, Mr. Stark," Sull chimed in, her voice dripping with condescension. "I'm no criminal. Is it standard to make lies more or less believable these days?"

Oh Reality, I hated that woman.

"I have no idea, Agent Sull," Peter replied, calm but cutting. "What I think on this matter is irrelevant to this investigation, isn't it?"

Oh, a burn. Good job, Pete.

"Let's say we believe you—at least in part—about the other world, the monsters, and the mages," Parker said, inserting himself into the conversation. "How do you know where Mr. Smith is?"

"We followed his trail through Ideworld's New York, across the bridge-buildings, into the Mirrored City, and toward One World Trade, which we'd planned to breach today, until you arrested me."

"How specifically did you follow his trail?"

"I gave Jason a necklace Alexa made for me once. It held her Authority, and thus she could sense its direction. She led us toward him."

Silence followed, unnatural, stretched thin. They were talking among themselves, maybe muting the feed. I couldn't tell.

While they lingered in their little huddle, I put the finishing touches on the anchor painting and closed my Travel Grimoire. It was a book stuffed with memories now, but still hungry for more, maybe even of places far beyond New York.

I stepped to the window. One World loomed in the distance, dwarfing every other building as if the city owed it rent.

"We have another question for you, Mr. Stark," Parker's voice came again. It started far away, then grew closer—like he'd been pacing the room. "How is it you survived the trip to the Mirrored City? Is Alexandra an experienced mage?"

"She is not."

Well, thanks, Pete. You could've sugar-coated that just a little.

"But," he added, "what she lacks in experience, she overcomes with determination, resourcefulness, and an indomitable will."

Wow.

"That's high praise," Parker said evenly, "but it still doesn't explain how you did it."

"Are you suddenly familiar with the words I used?" Peter shot back. "Why do you assume that a trip to the Mirrored City is something that has to be survived?"

Score. Good one, Pete. You got them.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," Parker said after a pause, "we are indeed more knowledgeable about Ideworld than we've let on. We were trying to gauge you."

"Is this a joke?" Peter's attorney cut in sharply. "You're saying this man is not delusional?"

"We never said that," Sull replied coldly. "Just that his story… makes sense to us. Mr. Stark can still be lying."

"This is ridiculous," the attorney muttered.

"Please, just let us talk in peace if you have nothing constructive to add—and if your client agrees," Parker pressed.

"I agree," Peter said firmly.

"Then tell us how it happened. Be honest, and maybe you'll walk free today."

"There isn't much to say, really," Peter began. "We ultimately failed in reaching Jason. Alexa's Domain lets her teleport us to places she's visited before, including her Domain, where we started. It was the closest point to the Mirrored City itself.

We went after the Unreflected that held Jason, and tracked it to one of the bridge-buildings near the Manhattan Bridge. There, we faced a horde of Unreflected, but Jason was taken by a native woman—naked, who could turn herself into shards of glass. Alexa tried to stop her but was injured. I was called to trial for my own Domain.

Then Alexa was hurt again, fighting off a fire-wielding shadow. She was unconscious for three days. When she woke, we returned here to rest before trying again. That's it."

That was when Caroline decided to break my little courtroom drama on the side—by breaking into our apartment.

"I had to get inside," she said, breathless. "There's a Beholder incoming."

"What?" we all said in unison.

"It's… well, just look." She pointed out the window.

We plastered ourselves to the glass. Even Nick—who usually knew what was what—leaned in, eyes wide.

The creature that drifted into view was colossal. The biggest living thing I had seen since stepping foot in Ideworld. House-sized, floating as though it weighed nothing, its body undulated like a jellyfish—or more precisely, a man-o-war. But unlike anything born of sea or sky, it was an obscene fusion of flesh and machinery.

Eyes dominated its form. A hundred at least, studded across its body. Some eerily human, others amphibian or avian, some black and alien—each blinking on its own rhythm. Veins turned into fiber-optic cables. Sinew into steel. Cameras and lenses bulged between the organic sockets, their tracking lasers sweeping over the streets below. Tentacles dangled beneath it, half-meat, half-machine, sweeping the pavement like radar antennae.

The worst part? It was drifting straight toward us.

"It's getting close," Malik whispered.

"Yes, yes," Loki confirmed with her tongue lolling, standing on her hind legs to watch. I guess I could officially add "talking animals" to my magical acquaintance list.

Then Malik shivered. "What is that feeling?"

I felt it too. A cold pressure. Not against my body—against my soul. Fingers of ice prying at me without any concern for flesh.

"This thing is an eldritch spawn?" I asked Caroline. Everyone turned to look at me like I had just asked the dumbest question in existence.

"Yes," she said flatly. "There's a rumor of an Elder God residing in a dimension adjacent to Ideworld's New York. Something tied to surveying… to seeing. These things—" she nodded at the Beholder, now veering to the right, thank Reality "—they appear around here most often. There are also smaller ones, hexapedal ground creatures, kind of like beetles crossed with cameras."

"Are they dangerous?" Malik asked.

"Yes. Their Domain is seeing and being seen. Not only is it impossible to hide, but step into their aura and they attack your senses directly." She hesitated, then added, "When they win, you might as well be blind."

"Can they be killed?" I asked.

"The smaller ones—we call them Watchdogs—they're durable, but we've managed to destroy a few. By we, I mean the Hexblades as a whole, not me personally. The Beholders though? Rumors only. Archmages fighting them. Winning, maybe. No confirmed reports. So, avoid them at all costs."

We stayed glued to the window until the majestic, horrific thing sailed deeper into Solitary Twin's Domain, as if it belonged to that cathedral-god. Only then did we exhale.

Meanwhile, Peter's interrogation had reached a very interesting point.

"Mr. Stark, I'll be direct," Parker said. "We've conducted our own investigation into Mr. Smith's disappearance, and the evidence suggests he was indeed taken into Ideworld—and that the Unreflected may have been involved. We also asked around about you. Not a single person failed to vouch for your truthfulness. It was so absolute, so obscene, that we briefly wondered if Truth was your Domain of Power. Is it?"

"It's not," Peter replied flatly.

"Never mind. That wasn't my point." Parker's voice didn't waver. "Despite unusual evidence that wouldn't stand in a mundane court of law—evidence that suggests your innocence—you remain the most likely suspect. We had to arrest you."

Peter leaned forward, his tone sharpening. "What evidence do you have to keep me here? It's all circumstantial at best."

"Hey, it's… true, what he said," his attorney cut in. I almost jumped; I thought she had left the room.

"It might be," Parker said. His tone dipped into something colder, heavier. "But this entire conversation will be altered on the recording anyway. By Reality. That's how it goes."

The silence that followed wasn't legal—it was existential, however brief it was.

"We are holding you, Mr. Stark, for the disappearance of Jason Smith, until a preliminary hearing is held."

Peter's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Are you going to extend it beyond the initial seventy-two hours?"

"That," Sull said at last, and I was nearly certain I heard the scrape of a sigh in her words, "is yet to be seen. It depends on how the investigation continues."