Ideworld Chronicles: The Art Mage

18th December (Thursday), past one in the afternoon

I lingered at the table long after everyone else had drifted away. Even Jason, or rather, Joan behind Jason's borrowed smile. The cafeteria had quieted to that soft, echoing hum that only comes once the crowd has thinned, trays clattering in the distance, shoes squeaking faintly across the tiles. I sat there with my half-empty glass of water, staring through it like it might help me see the truth clearer.

I kept replaying everything in my mind. Every conversation, every gesture, every shared look since we first met. Trying to trace back where their influence might have begun. But that kind of manipulation… it's like fog. You only notice it when you're already lost inside it.

Trust was never something I'd planned to give them anyway. Cooperation, yes—mutual interest, shared risk, overlapping goals. That much was manageable. But trust? That was never part of the deal. Still, sitting there now, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd already given them more than I should have. In words, in silence, in attention, in fucking everything.

I'd been in toxic relationships before. Penrose, for example, but at least he was honest about being the devil. His threats were sharp and visible, his power laid bare like a blade in the open. He never pretended to be anything else, than what was his nature. But Joan… Joan were something else entirely.

Either way, stewing in that thought spiral wasn't going to help. I needed action, something tangible.

I pushed away from the table, the chair legs scraping softly against the floor, and stepped out into the cold air. Snow flurries danced around the walkway, the campus muted under the pale gray sky. Pulling my scarf tighter, I took out my phone and dialed Malik's number.

The line began to ring as I started walking.

"Alexa?"

"That's me, Malik. What's up, kiddo?" I answered, tucked into the shadow of a nearby tree.

"Can we have that talk you promised me earlier?"

"Talk?" I frowned. I couldn't place what he meant. "…Sure?"

"Could we meet in person?" There goes my afternoon painting session, I thought.

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"At Nick's house." I called my Spellbook and, a second later, asked it to bring me into Lebens' training hall. "Are you there? I heard a weird noise for a second."

"I'm not there anymore..." I said, searching through my aura for Malik's knuckle dusters. I teleported to their location. They were tucked in the pockets of the jacket hanging in the small room Lebens had given him. He stood by the window, phone in hand, looking like a boy half his age.

Malik was four years younger than me, but sometimes he still felt like a child, raised in a rough neighborhood, hardened by circumstance, yet softened by a grandmother who refused to let him turn cruel. He saw the world in black and white, which made him stubbornly reliable and, at times, too simple for his own good.

"I'm here now." I ended the call. Malik jumped, startled.

"Jesus! Good God, you can't be sneakin' up like that!" he shouted as he turned. "There should be a noise when you teleport. Some kind of warnin' so people don't freak out."

"Nope. There definitely shouldn't be." I smiled, pulling a chair from under the desk and sitting. "So, what's going on, kid?"

He leaned against the wall, hands clasped behind his back, head tilted away, not meeting my eyes. He seemed smaller that way, like someone trying to hold himself together.

"I wanted to continue our talk," he said finally. "You said we would, once you had more time and weren't in the middle of monster negotiations."

"Monster negotiations?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe you phrased it differently. I don't remember. You meant the Shattered."

My chest went cold. I was running on fumes and, frankly, my memory felt threadbare. "Excuse me, Malik, but I'm… I can't recall exactly what you mean."

He stared at me, intensity flaring behind knit brows. "You can't? We talked after you planted your eye cards, before Nick and Caroline came back from scoutin'. Before you started, uh… painting dick on the pavement."

A hollow opened up inside me. I searched my mind and found nothing: no memory of that conversation, no trace. Panic and dread rolled through me like a sudden chill.

"Are you okay?" Malik asked, dropping to his knees without thinking, looking up at me. I hadn't realized I'd been staring at the floor.

"I don't remember, Malik. I can't remember that conversation at all. Walk me through it, please. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, softening. "If you want, I can show you."

"Show me how?" I asked.

"If you take us to that room, I can access the echo of the event and replay it. I can see it again, and I think I can pull it back for you too, since you were part of it. But we have to go there."

"Sure," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder and asking the world to switch places for me. The world obliged.

The air folded in on itself, and when it unfolded again, we were standing inside that same apartment. The one we'd once used as a hideout near the Solitary Twin. The space was still and dim, the shadows stretched long across the tiles. Malik found another chair and dragged it close, sitting beside me with deliberate care.

"Can I hold your hand for that?" he asked quietly, eyes on the floor. The shyness in his voice softened me.

"Of course."

I extended my hand, resting it in his. His palm was broad and warm, roughened by training, yet the way he held me was careful, almost reverent.

The moment our skin touched, light spilled out of him. Gold and violet shadowlight, swirling like liquid dawn. It flowed both outward into the room and inward toward me, asking permission to enter. I lowered my defenses and let it in.

The world shifted.

I saw myself walking into this very room, my past self, my movements confident and sharp. Malik sat by the couch, absentmindedly rubbing Loki's belly. When he turned toward me, his face fell, eyes lowering.

"Malik sad?" Loki's voice rang out in that uncanny, cheerful tone of hers.

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"No, no!" he blurted, too quickly. I moved toward the window in the vision, watching the city's reflected skyline through the blinds. He took that moment to steal a glance back at me, shoulders slumped. "…Maybe a little," he admitted at last.

I turned then, my past self's tone steady, almost commanding. "You're afraid it won't work?"

He looked up. "It's good to hear that, but I'm scared somethin' will go terribly wrong."

"I can teleport away if it does. That's why it has to be me." The conviction in my own voice startled me now, hearing it from the outside.

"I know," he said, "but I also know how intense you can be. That's why I'm afraid."

"You're afraid you'll be stuck here if I die?"

"No." He hesitated, hands tightening around Loki's fur. "I think we'd manage to get out, sooner or later. With Nick and Caroline's help. I'm afraid of losin' you."

The way he said it, quiet but raw, hit like a blade in soft flesh.

"Oh, Malik…" My past self softened but kept her distance. "What you're feeling isn't love. It's attraction. You don't know me well enough for it to be more than that."

He looked up sharply. "How… how did you know?"

"Just a guess," I said in the echo, "based on your behavior."

"Yeah," he admitted after a pause, his voice cracking. "I love you. From the first time we met, I knew it. And it was clear when I saw your face, Al—"

My past self reacted instantly, covering his mouth with her hand. He nearly stumbled back.

"Our golden, four-legged friend doesn't need to hear everything, right?" she said, eyes flicking toward Loki.

"Loki likes love!" the dog barked happily, wagging her tail.

I could almost laugh at the absurdity if it didn't ache so much to witness.

I watched myself wait, patient, until Malik realized what had just slipped out. Only then did I lower my hand.

"—when I saw your face, Jess…" he finished lamely, gaze dropping again.

"Unfortunately, Malik," I said gently but firmly, "I don't feel the same way. Hell, I didn't even feel that way about Jason and look where that got us. So take this as a lesson. It's just a crush. You're young, full of hormones, and apparently I'm wearing a far too flattering suit for all of this. Oh, Reality…"

Through the bond, I saw it then, Nick and Caroline approaching, their auras brushing against mine even in the memory.

"The gang's on their way, boy. I'm sorry about this," I told him, pointing at the space between us, a silent barrier of reason.

"Can we talk about it more? Later?" he asked, voice small.

"Maybe once we're not in the middle of negotiating with walking nightmares, okay?"

"Sure," he murmured, sounding like a scolded puppy, and turned toward the window, staring out at the city beyond.

The vision dimmed, fading back into the present.

Malik's hand was still in mine.

And with that touch, the echo of another memory rose, Liora's vision, the one he'd shown me when he first stepped into my soul as living shadowlight: a man seeing the love of his life for the first time. I had offered a memory to him then, to make him mine, and he chose that one? Of all the fragments of who I was, he reached for that spark, the first sight of love.

He sought something in me that mirrored his own creation.

At least now, I knew it wasn't anything more vital I'd lost, just a memory of longing dressed as revelation. I could have spent my whole life haunted by the idea of something irreplaceable slipping away, never knowing it was simply this.

I withdrew my hand and looked at him. His eyes searched my face, hopeful and unguarded.

"You think it's love," I said softly. "And I won't deny that it feels like it. But what I said then still stands. I don't love you, Malik, and—"

"Maybe you will one day?" he cut in, desperate hope flickering behind his words. "If we just spend more time together."

"More than likely," I answered, voice steady, "you'll grow to resent me."

"I don't think so."

I sighed and folded my arms, not unkindly. "Okay. Listen to me, Malik. What you're feeling, it's real in its way, but it's not love. Love needs time. It grows when you truly know someone, when you've seen their beauty and their failings and still choose them. We haven't had that time. You don't know me truly yet."

But his gaze didn't waver. "You're wrong. I've seen you, the real you. Curious beyond reason when you ran into the voidlings. Fearless when you saved my grams. Loyal when you came back for Nick and me. And when you ran headlong to rescue Jason, a man you didn't love but swore to bring home. I saw the nature of your heart, Alexa."

Nature.

The word itself was a trigger, a thread leading back to Joan, to the Shattered, to unanswered question humming under my skin.

I had promised Malik in that memory that I'd bring Jason back, no matter what. I felt that conviction then. Pure, selfless and absolute, and yet, when I finally faced the Shattered, it wasn't devotion or mercy that guided me. It was the cold arithmetic of my transactional nature.

And it had won.

Easily.

Without much of a fight.

Joan were the Archmage of Nature, weren't they? Masters of growth, of balance, of adaptation. The Shattered could shift appearances, bend bodies and memories, but what if Joan's real gift was subtler. Changing and influencing the nature of things and people alike? The essence. The core. If they saw human nature as just another ecosystem to tend or exploit, then influencing me would be as simple as redirecting a river or coaxing a vine to grow toward the light.

Maybe that's what they'd done all along. Reshaping themselves to match whatever I needed to see, whatever I wanted to hear. A mirror made of empathy and deception. Or maybe… maybe I was just being paranoid.

I looked back at Malik's face. What he'd said was beautiful, earnest and raw, and I could feel the sincerity radiating from him. It moved me, even if I couldn't meet it in kind. The thought of the disappointment that would follow my continued rejection twisted my stomach, but I couldn't lie to him, couldn't lead him by the nose with half-truths. He deserved better than that. Malik was a good young man, and how I handled this moment would shape how he thought about love and about women for years to come.

"Thank you," I said softly. "Your words helped me a lot, Malik. Not just now, but in the past few days too. The way you see me… that's how I wish I really was."

"You are," he said, quick and fierce, as if willing it to be true.

"I'm glad you shared your feelings with me," I continued gently. "But I hope you understand that, with everything going on around me and after what happened with my last relationship, I can't start anything new right now. Okay?"

I gave him an excuse I knew he'd latch onto. The idea of forces beyond our control, the kind of narrative that would make sense to his heart still wired for heroes' honor.

"Yes, I know," he said after a pause. His shoulders straightened as he clasped his fists together. "I should focus on improvin' myself too." Then he looked up at me again, eyes clear, expression steady for the first time since this conversation began. "You'll always have a place in my heart, Alexa."

I smiled for him, making sure it looked genuine.

"You too, Malik," I said quietly. "And I'll do my best to make you proud for choosing me."

And I meant it. Both parts of it. I wanted to be better, not because I needed redemption, but because this kid's unwavering faith somehow demanded it of me. In that way, he'd carved out a place in my heart after all. Just not the one he hoped for.

"Can we go back to Earth now? This place gives me creeps."

"Of course," I said with a faint smile. "Though before that, there's someone I'd like you to meet, if you don't mind."

With a flick of my will, the world folded and shifted. A blink later, we were back inside Lebens' hall. At the same time, I reached through my bond and pulled Liora beside us. The three of us appeared almost simultaneously, the air shimmering with faint traces of golden-green light.

Malik jumped back, instinctively raising his hands into a fighting stance. "What the hell is that?!"

I lifted both palms, gesturing for him to calm down. "Relax, Malik. That's Liora. My Lóng. We're soulbound to each other. This little rascal is actually the reason I didn't remember your love confession." I shot the dragon a look.

Liora's horns flared with green shadowlight, but his scales dimmed to a soft grey as he coiled in midair.

[He is sad about it.]

"Don't be sad," I said gently. "I knew I'd have to pay with a memory, and I agreed. I just didn't know which one you'd take. It worked out in the end, because Malik here was kind enough to remind me what I'd lost."

Malik's eyes widened. "You gave up a memory for it?"

"Yes. That was the price." I smiled faintly. "And for the record, it's a he."

"You're so cool, Lio!" Malik exclaimed, the earlier tension dissolving. Liora seemed to brighten at that, spinning around the boy in loose, joyful circles. The air shimmered in his wake, threads of rainbow shadowlight chasing him like playful ghosts. Malik laughed, trying to turn fast enough to keep up, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

For a moment, it was… peaceful. Watching them—boy and dragon—felt almost normal. A rare pocket of calm in a world that had long forgotten the meaning of it.

But my thoughts, traitorous as ever, soon drifted back to Joan.

The Shattered.

The lies wrapped in charm, the truth hidden behind a borrowed face.

They had played me, beautifully and effortlessly. And if they could deceive me that easily, what else were they capable of?

I exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. I'd have to free Victor as soon as possible and dig deeper into the Shattered's nature, their real motives. I couldn't afford to be caught blind again.

Maybe, in the end, I'd have to take Jason back from them, whether they wanted to let him go or not.