Ideworld Chronicles: The Art Mage

Day in the story: 17th December (Wednesday)

"What do I feed Liora?" I asked, giving the little Lóng a gentle pat on the head. He hissed—softly, but with enough warning that I pulled my hand back. The sound was eerily like a cat's.

"Any small rodents or birds will do. Fruits, too. One portion a day should keep him satisfied," the clerk said as she drifted back toward her chair, voice calm and detached, like she'd given this same advice a hundred times.

"Him?" I blinked. "That's a male?"

"Yes. Your Liora is a male Lóng."

"I didn't see any… well, you know, parts. How can you tell?"

"They don't mate like humans," she explained without missing a beat. "They exchange light when they couple. He's horned—only males are."

I couldn't help but think, I really hope he's not the other kind of horny.

I reached out again, this time scratching the soft fur along his mane. That he liked. A low, vibrating purr rumbled from his throat as he slithered down from my shoulder, coiling into my lap like a contented serpent. He stretched his head out, nudging my hand, clearly asking for more.

"As he's soulbound to you, you'll learn to communicate with him," she continued. "He'll let you know when he's hungry."

"Anything else I should know? Should I let him fly around? Will he come back if I call?"

"It's best if he stays close," she said. "He needs to be near your soul most of the time, or he'll start to wither."

That might get complicated on Earth, I thought, but I kept that concern to myself.

[It won't matter in your Domain. It's a part of your soul, after all,] Anansi's voice whispered inside my head.

Fair point. Thanks, Anansi.

"How long can he stay away from me, then?" I asked.

"That depends on his age and resilience," she replied. "But he's still very young—barely a year old—so I wouldn't risk more than a week. Your soul's presence is like water to him; he needs it to live."

"Does that mean he takes something from me through this connection?"

She smiled faintly. "Not quite. My analogy wasn't the best. Think of your soul as a source of warmth—it radiates all the time, whether or not a Lóng is bound to it. He just needs that warmth so he doesn't freeze."

"I get it now." I nodded, glancing down at the tiny dragon now snoring softly in my lap. "You said he's young—will he grow larger over time?"

"There are stories about Lóngs growing to enormous sizes," the clerk said, her tone more thoughtful than certain. "But I've never seen it happen myself. I don't know what makes them grow that way."

"No problem," I said, glancing down at the little creature perched near my hand. "He's perfect just like this. Aren't you, Liora?"

He hissed again—soft, sharp, and oddly smug. I decided that meant yes.

"Thank you for this," I said quietly. "It means a lot. I really like him already."

"You're welcome, child. But remember—it wasn't a gift."

Maybe it shouldn't have felt like one, but it did.

"I'll be going now." I rose to my feet, and Liora lifted himself almost instantly, hovering at shoulder height.

"Farewell," the clerk said, voice echoing faintly as I waved a casual goodbye.

We left together—well, I walked. Liora zipped beside me, darting and twirling through the air like a restless ferret chasing invisible currents. When we finally stepped outside—probably his first time under open sky—I pointed upward to where a cluster of pigeyeons circled lazily.

"Go on, grab one for dinner if you want," I told him.

He didn't hesitate. The air seemed to pull him upward, his body slicing through it like liquid light. He fixed on a black, oily-looking bird and shot after it, a streak of shimmering color against the blue. Watching him move—so fluid, so effortless—filled me with a strange sense of release, like I was the one flying.

I closed my eyes, reaching for the thread that connected us. It pulsed faintly, clear and bright—just like the bond between me and my Domain, though it only went one way. He was bound to me, not the other way around.

When I opened my eyes again, he was already gliding back down, the pigeyeon limp in his claws. He descended with eerie grace, as if walking down invisible steps that only he could see. The way he shifted between slithering through the air and stepping across it made him look like he was halfway between a thought and a dream.

I wanted to stay in that quiet moment, to just watch him exist—but there were still things waiting for me, promises I couldn't ignore. So I called him closer. He obeyed immediately, curling toward me like a ribbon drawn by gravity.

I reached out, brushed my fingers against his warm scales, and pulled us both into my Domain.

The world folded, space itself bending at my will. Liora startled, dropping his prey as the new reality settled around us. In an instant, he darted straight toward my soul core, drawn by instinct. He bathed in the light and coiled around the crystal like a living rope, snake-smooth, until he settled on one of the vines-like protrusions that had grown up from the core during its transformation.

I felt it before I understood it—a faint, steady pull at the edge of my soul. It wasn't a question, not exactly, more like a quiet longing, the kind that comes from something trying to settle where it belongs. The feeling came from the little creature coiled around my crystalline core.

"Go on," I murmured, my voice caught somewhere between curiosity and invitation.

My soul core responded instantly. A surge of shadowlight burst forth, swallowing Liora whole and blanking out my sight for a heartbeat. When the glow faded, he drifted toward me again—but he wasn't quite the same. His horns, once soft and deerlike, now shimmered with the same crystalline sheen as my core, laced through with that rainbow shadowlight… and something else. Something mine. My Authority.

"What did you do, little one?" I asked, brushing my fingers through his mane as he hovered there, light rippling across his scales. "Decided to take up art?"

He circled me in response—fast, fluid, like a shark tracing its prey.

"Hold on," I said, and to my surprise, he stopped mid-spin, head tilting. "If you've got a piece of my Authority, then maybe I can—"

I focused on him—on the pulse of my own power that lingered within him—and before I could even finish the thought, space folded. In the next instant, I was where he was, arms wrapped around a warm, scaled body.

"—teleport to you," I finished, grinning as he wriggled free, clearly startled by the sudden intrusion.

That was… neat.

He darted upward, slipping through a crack in my ceiling and out into the open. I followed with my senses and blinked in surprise—the eternal black of my Domain's sky was gone, replaced by a deep, brilliant blue. The light had answered whatever time had shifted out there, outside.

I focused again, stretching my awareness until it brushed against his presence high above. My aura sense had expanded in here—it covered the entire Domain, effortless and precise. The next teleport was almost too easy.

In a breath, I was outside, standing beneath him as he glided through the bright emptiness above my small, one-storey high tower.

"It's not much yet," I said, shading my eyes to watch him dance across the sky. "Pretty bleak, huh? Sorry about that. I'm working on it, I promise."

He swooped back down and stopped right in front of my face, hovering with uncanny stillness. His whiskers quivered, brushing the air like a cat testing the edges of a box. I reached out and ran my fingers along one of his crystalline horns—it was cool to the touch, smooth but faintly humming with energy.

"I wonder what you can do now that you're carrying a piece of my Authority," I mused aloud. "According to Nick—who, by the way, I really hope you'll get along with—you'll change over time to match my nature."

He purred, a low, resonant sound that felt more like agreement than affection. I grinned. "Yeah, I'll take that as a nod."

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"Alright, listen, Lio," I said, dropping my voice like I was trying to reason with a toddler who understood too much. "I've got a lot to take care of, and I can bring you along for some of it. But eventually, I'll have to go back to Earth—and you'll have to stay behind for a bit."

He stiffened instantly, his body going rigid like a bowstring drawn tight. Somehow, I knew he understood..

"So, when I'm away from this world, I could technically leave you here," I went on, glancing around the barren expanse of my Domain. "But honestly, that might count as animal cruelty." His eyes flicked around the emptiness too, then back to me, unimpressed.

"Yeah, didn't think you'd like that. The other option is the Water Domain—my brother's place. You'd like it there. It's got life, color, movement… actual weather. He won't mind as long as you don't snack on any of his fish."

He didn't answer, not in words anyway. Instead, he made a few tiny hops through the air, circling me once before landing on my shoulder again. Then, without warning, he floated off toward the single pond in the distance—the only spot in my Domain that didn't look completely dead.

His meaning was clear enough.

"You'll stay with me as long as you can," I said softly, following his gaze, "and when I leave, you'll go to the Water Domain. That it?"

He darted back to my shoulder, curling himself neatly against my neck. If that wasn't a yes, nothing was. Honestly, he was better at communicating than half the people I'd done group projects with back in uni.

"Good," I said, smiling as I reached up to scratch behind his jaw.

I took one last look around—the pale, unfinished sky, the still air, the quiet promise of what this place could become—and breathed in deep. Then I focused on the image of my room back on Earth, the one bound inside my Spellbook. My anchor.

In the blink of an eye, we were standing beside my bed.

"Alright," I said, gesturing around the familiar, cluttered space. "We're on Earth now. You can roam around the apartment, but not outside. Got it?"

He dropped lightly to the floor and started testing the ground with little hops, tail flicking as if he were deciding whether he approved of gravity here.

"Good," I muttered, already reaching for my phone. "I've got a few calls to make to some friends."

I took my phone and called Sophie DeLonge first. It was almost exactly eleven in the morning, so she should be on her break. She answered almost immediately.

"Ali?"

"Hey, Sophie."

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah. Actually, better than alright. Getting better by the minute. I wanted to ask—did you manage to get the materials for my costume?"

"Oh, girl. Better."

"Better?" I frowned. "What do you mean, better?"

"You home?" she asked, her tone turning mischievous. "Wait, never mind—you can be home in two seconds anyway, so why do I even ask?" She laughed, which was a relief. Sophie laughing meant no disasters were brewing.

"Yeah, I'm home, Soph."

"Good. Go to my room. I meant to drop it off in yours, but Nick called me last night and, well…" She paused, the grin practically audible through the phone. "We finally got some alone time, despite your heroic attempts to ruin that for us."

I hesitated, wondering for a brief moment if she was still holding a grudge, but then she laughed again—warm and teasing. "I'll tell you the details later, if you ever decide to act like a normal person again."

"Touché," I said, smirking as I started down the hall. Lio floated along beside me, his movements oddly reminiscent of a ferret trying to be subtle. "So, what do I do once I'm in your room?"

"It's in the black bag next to my bed. Go ahead, take a look."

"Alright, you're on speaker," I said, setting the phone on the nightstand as I crouched by her bed. The black bag sat exactly where she'd said, sleek and mysterious. I unzipped it, and the moment I caught sight of the contents, my heart jumped a little.

My suit.

I lifted it out carefully, unfolding it piece by piece and spreading it across the floor. The thing looked whole—not pieced together, not amateurish, but like it had always been one complete design. Every seam was invisible, every contour perfect. The materials mimicked the texture of my faux armor to uncanny perfection, painted with the same precision where the mock circuitry and mechanical details ran.

There was even a hood—seamlessly attached, with flexible wiring inside so the mechanical rabbit ears stood upright instead of flopping over. Sophie really outdid herself.

And then there was the turtleneck. Foldable, sleek, and when pulled up, it covered my face up to the nose. The design transformed into a robotic rabbit's muzzle, complete with painted metal teeth and a stylized nose that gave the whole thing a sharp, almost menacing look.

Painted oxygen tanks decorated each cheek, connected by faux tubing that ran into the nosepiece—tiny details that gave the costume an illusion of function, a touch of futuristic realism. It wouldn't work, not yet anyway—my paintings still couldn't produce material effects beyond their medium—but maybe one day they would.

Even so, it was more than enough. The craftsmanship, the precision, the sheer style of it—it was perfect.

This wasn't just a costume. It was an identity. A mask for the person I became when I stepped beyond the ordinary.

"How?" I muttered, still staring at the suit like it might vanish if I blinked. "Sophie, how? You're many things, but you couldn't have pulled this off in a single day."

"Oh gee, thanks," she shot back, her voice dripping with mock offense. "I hope you meant I couldn't have done it by myself in one day, because I absolutely made it happen—and no, before you ask, there was zero magic involved." I could practically hear the grin in her voice. "Unless you count Broadway-level costume magic, which, apparently, some people do."

"You went there?" I asked, half laughing, half floored.

"Of course I did. You gave me a simple errand, and I pounced on it like a cat spotting a laser pointer. Materials were easy—I had those within an hour. But I wanted to do more, you know? Actually help. So I called up my old drama club friends."

"Drama club," I said, remembering her high school days. "Wait—Stephan?"

"Yep. He's in costume design now," she said proudly. "For the promise of one overpriced coffee with yours truly, he pulled a few colleagues together, and they went all in. You. Are. Welcome."

I stared down at the suit again, tracing the painted mechanical veins with my fingertips. "I didn't expect that… but you're right, I underestimated you." My voice softened. "Thank you—and, uh, sorry?"

"Apology accepted. I suggested they make the eyes around the hood like you wanted, and they also proposed adding stabilizers on the arms and legs. Don't know if you'll use them, but it looked cool, so I let them. Oh, and in the inner pocket of the bag, there's that scarf you wanted, metallic and mighty," she said, clearly pleased with herself.

It was perfect—nearly twice my height, feather-light but designed to look like interlocked metal rings, with sharp edges, catching the light with every subtle shift..

"That's exactly what I pictured," I said, my voice thick with quiet wonder. "Your friends are geniuses."

"Yeah, they're pretty amazing," she agreed. "So next time you need something done in record time, just call me. I'll move heaven and Earth to make it happen."

I felt a single tear slide down my cheek. Just one. No big deal. Definitely just one.

"I'll hold you to that," I said, smiling to myself. "You really made my day, Soph. Thanks to you, I can finally take a shower and scrub off all this body paint and makeup."

And then, quietly, almost as an afterthought, I added, "After that, I'll slap on the rotors and laser lights—just need to paint them in. Oh, and the eyes on the pointing fingers. Can't forget those. Might be useful."

There was a pause. Then, in her usual no-nonsense tone, she asked, "You're going back somewhere dangerous? Are you taking Nick with you?"

"Yes and no," I admitted. "I'm going alone this time. It shouldn't be too bad, but it's easier to bail out if it is. If all goes well, I'll catch up with you tonight."

"That's good to hear," she said, exhaling audibly. "Alright, girl, I've gotta go. Some of us are still pretending to be responsible students."

I laughed softly. "I'll be back soon—as soon as the FBI loses interest in me. Shouldn't take long."

"Oh?" she said, tone suddenly sharper. "So Jason's coming back?"

"He is," I replied. "I'll tell you everything later."

"Good. That's good news." Sophie's voice softened, relief threading through the line. If she knew the whole truth, that feeling might've shifted fast—but I let her hold onto it. She deserved at least that.

"Take care," she added.

"You too," I said quietly before the call ended.

I exhaled, let the silence settle for a moment, then sent both the suit and the scarf straight into my Domain for safekeeping. My phone buzzed lightly in my palm as I scrolled to the next number and tapped.

Akira.

The call rang once, twice, three times—then nothing. No answer. My stomach sank a little. He was usually quick to pick up, even if just to complain. I decided to try again tomorrow, and if he still didn't answer I'd check his apartment. Reasonable, right?

One last call, I promised myself, before the shower. I wandered into the main room of our flat and dropped onto the couch, watching as Liora hovered by the window. Snow drifted outside, slow and soft, and he tracked each flake with quiet fascination. Poor thing probably missed his mountain skies already.

The call connected.

"Alexa?" Damien's deep voice rolled through the speaker like distant thunder.

"Yes, it's me," I said. "Tell me—did anything come out of that guild meeting of mine?"

"It did," he replied, then paused. "But please, reconsider what you're doing. You know I wouldn't speak ill of someone without a reason."

"I know, Dam," I sighed. "It's just…" I trailed off, searching for the right words. What was it, really? The thing driving me forward like this? "I want to get stronger. And for that, I need to meet people who have what I don't—knowledge, resources, power."

"Stronger?" His tone dipped lower, touched with disappointment. "For what purpose?"

"I want to explore Ideworld," I said finally. "Really see it. And to do that, I can't keep worrying about dying every time I turn a corner."

"I see." His voice softened. "That's a good answer. It lifts a weight off my shoulders."

"You thought I was like Penrose, didn't you?"

"For a moment," he admitted. "You're almost like his child. It's not an unreasonable fear."

"You're right," I said, brushing aside the small sting that came with his honesty. "Anyway—what about the meeting?"

"I've got an address for the main guild outpost here in New York," he said. "When you arrive, a representative will meet with you."

"Just like that? No appointment? Don't they have anything better to do?"

"You've got it backward," Damien replied dryly. "They think you don't matter. When you show up, you'll wait until they decide you're worth their time."

"Oh," I said, chuckling under my breath. "So, that kind of flex."

"Yes. That's exactly what I meant when I said they're not good people."

"I might rethink it then," I said, half-joking. "Still, send me the address."

"I will. Are you heading back to Ideworld soon?"

"Pretty soon," I said. "I've got something to take care of first."

"If you need backup, I could come. Nick's here now."

"Thanks, but I want to handle this alone for as long as I can. If I need help, I'll ask. Promise."

"I'll worry," he said with a sigh, "but I won't stop you."

I smiled, even if he couldn't see it. "That's all I can ask. You're a good man, Dam. Take care."

"Goodbye, Alexa."

The line went dead, and I sat for a moment, letting the quiet hum of the apartment settle in. Then my phone buzzed again—one new message:

42nd Street, Grand Central Terminal. Under the United States Guild signpost.

I frowned. The what signpost? I'd been there a dozen times and never noticed anything of the sort. Typical mages—so self-satisfied they probably thought a hidden entrance counted as prestige.

Still, it was intriguing. Enough that my irritation started curling into curiosity. But everything had its time. And right now? Right now was for something much simpler.

I set the phone aside, stripped off and stepped into the shower.

The first rush of hot water hit, washing away the paint, the grime, the tension, everything. I stayed there longer than I meant to—long enough to forget, just for a bit, about worlds and guilds and power.

It was a great shower.

A hot and long one.

Just right.