Ideworld Chronicles: The Art Mage

18th December (Thursday), in the afternoon

There was one investigation I wanted more than anything right then. Not Akira's disappearance. Not the mystery of John Doe. Not Joan's motives, guild's secret bases, Victor's trail, or even Jason's state. For once, with a rare scrap of time that felt selfish and delicious, I wanted to pry into something smaller and stranger: did my art dream of me? Did my paintings have a soul? To find out, I needed their shadows.

I dropped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling for a few slow breaths, letting the thought settle. The best way in, the cleanest way—what would that look like?

"I could try to find a few of my murals around the city in Ideworld and see if they're there, if they've changed," I said aloud, because saying things helps. "Is that feasible, Spidey?"

[No. Too dangerous], Anansi replied bluntly.

"That's what I thought." Talking with a part of your soul is weirdly calming. It's like arguing with a very patient version of myself. I bounced ideas off the weave anyway. "Okay. Maybe an object, then. But most of my pieces live inside my Domain. Where would their dream-versions spawn?"

[Back in your room?] came the soft answer.

"But we are here, dummy." I rolled my eyes at my own voice in my head.

[Not this room. The other room.]

"You think accessing it from Ideworld, bypassing the Domain, is valid?" I asked.

[I have no idea, but we could try. Side note: you already own one item that's a dreamt version, a shadow.]

"Equinox." The name hit me like a bell. I'd snagged it from Big Mike's Guns n' Ammo in Ideworld. The place existed on Earth too.

[Yes.]

"What happens if those two meet?" I asked. "Like, the real item and its shadow. What then?"

[They'd meet? Like person and its shadow?] Anansi sounded curiously literal.

"Bring them close. See what happens. You comfortable with that phrasing?"

[I don't know. Probably nothing.]

"Still worth checking." I wasn't convinced "probably nothing" was helpful, but it was better than a dead stop.

[You want to find Earth's version of the gun?]

"It's twenty minutes by bus," I said, swinging my legs over the bed. I summoned my Spellbook and then Noxy. Practicalities first. I rolled the gun's serial number around in my mind until the digits settled on my tongue: 1UR1EL22. Easy enough to remember. Like Uriel, the archangel. Too on-the-nose to be coincidence. Maybe angelic numeration was what gave it its initial authority.

"Okay. I'll start with this one. Maybe it's still on the shelf in that side of the world." I felt the plan click into place, small and dangerous and exactly my speed.

[But since he became Noxy in the shadowed version, he doesn't dream himself. It's not exactly what you're looking for.]

"You think I don't know that?" I asked aloud, already halfway to the door of my apartment. My boots echoed lightly down the corridor. You think me that easy to distract, just because I follow my own thoughts too far? I added silently, tugging my coat straight as I started down the stairs.

[It's my fault. I brought up Equinox. But yes, you should be looking for items that can actually dream back into Ideworld.]

Just because I wanted to find them first? I smirked faintly. No, Anansi. They can wait. If they're in my room, they're safe. But the real-world version of Noxy? That could be bought at any second. I'd hate to miss it.

[So it's a matter of urgency, then?]

Exactly. I answered as I stepped out into the street.

**********

Big Mike's Guns n' Ammo was an intimidating place to walk into. Before me and Equinox became besties, I wasn't much into guns. I still wasn't, but I understood the power they brought and learned how to use them and appreciate them. It was always better to have one and never use it, than to need one and not have it, right?

I pushed through the door with a confident stride. Appearances matter; I wanted to leave with another piece tucked under my coat. Penrose had sorted me the New York permits for my nineteenth birthday, which helped. Legally I'd need to be twenty-one, but Jess Hare's paperwork made the math work in my favor. Practicalities, all hackable if you know where to press.

The clerk inside was a rather small guy, which either meant he wasn't the owner, he was but had a sense of humor, or the shop's name meant something entirely different and I was back again making weird phallic observations. I decided that no matter the reason, my visit today should start with a kind smile and a quick hello.

He responded in kind while finishing something on his computer.

I'd gotten interested in the original form of Noxy some time ago, when Thomas mentioned that in its magically enhanced form it packed a punch like a Desert Eagle on steroids. I thought back then that maybe it was a Desert Eagle, but apparently those used different ammo and were a completely different beast altogether.

"I'm looking for a Walther PDP Compact."

The clerk's eyebrows launched skyward so fast the room nearly experienced turbulence. "That's very specific. Have you fired one before?" he asked, already tapping stock numbers into his computer.

"Yes. I like it. It fits well in my hand and is just the right size for carrying."

"I have three of those. I'll bring one for you to check, okay?" he asked, motioning for his colleague to come closer for security reasons.

"Bring all three," I said, palms open like a peace offering. "I'm a Virgo. If there's a choice, I have to make sure it's the right one."

Superstition is a sharp tool when wielded correctly. It can make any rational argument instantly moot. It's a trick I learned long ago, one that works especially well on men.

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He sighed, realizing there was no winning against it, and yet still wanted to make a sale.
"Fine, I'll bring all three."

The other guy was checking me out constantly, keeping a proverbial eye on me. Maybe for security reasons, or maybe drawn by my fiery red wig, which promised an equally warm temperament. He stayed silent, and I returned the favor, wandering my gaze around the store. The place looked almost exactly like its Ideworld equivalent, maybe a little smaller, a bit less packed with guns, and of course missing that big black painted hole at the front, but still, it brought back memories. Like visiting an old friend who accidentally shoved you onto a very particular path.

The clerk brought all three guns and laid them out on the counter. They looked practically identical, but I picked one at random and went through the motions: weighing it, shifting my grip, pretending to judge its balance. A quick glance at the serial number told me enough, it wasn't the one.

"There's something off with this one. I don't feel the right energy," I said, setting it down and reaching for the next. The man rolled his eyes but didn't comment, watching as I repeated the act. Unfortunately, same result. Not the gun that dreamt Noxy into being. My heart sank a little. I'd half-expected this, but hope's a stubborn thing. Still, I gave the clerk a polite smile as I placed the weapon back on the counter.

"This one felt a bit better, but I don't think we're meant to be together."

He straightened, a flicker of concern crossing his face. Maybe I'd leaned too hard into the mystical vibe. What sounded quirky a minute ago was now veering into unhinged. I noted to myself to dial that down next time.

"You sure you even want a gun?" he asked.

"Yes. Sorry. It probably sounds weird, but this matters to me. My father was big on guns, and he always said a good one connects with you the moment you touch it."

Playing the dad card earned me some sympathy points. People were always easier to read and easier to steer than they realized. Was that their fault, or just the universe's sense of humor?

I reached for the last gun. The moment my fingers brushed the grip, a shiver crawled up my spine. It was so sudden, I almost dropped it. For a heartbeat, it felt like the air itself shifted, like the world just recognized something it had lost. A flicker of panic rose in me, pretending to feel something real, only to have it stare back at me was… unsettling.

This was it. The caster. I could feel it. Familiar and heavy in my hand, just like Noxy always felt when I held him. But I still kept the act going, rotating the weapon, pretending to inspect it like before. When I glanced down, the serial number confirmed what I already knew: 1UR1EL22.

"This is the one. It is just right. I want it." I said and clerk despite being probably unsure of my mental health went ahead, checking the permits and finishing the transaction.

It felt strange coming home by bus, but I decided it was the right call. I wanted to experience this version of Noxy the same way his dreamt counterpart once did. By crossing that same bridge soon after we were brought together. Even without the danger, it still felt like a kind of a crucible.

**********

Peter greeted me the moment I stepped into the apartment.

"Lex, you realize those people are not my friends, right?" he asked while packing food into his backpack.

I just grinned at him.

"I hope you're not in some big, deep trouble again?" He gestured toward my hair with his chin.

"No. But I needed Jess to handle a few things for me. So… you didn't learn anything?"

He zipped the bag shut, set it down, and finally gave me his full attention.

"I scoured the thing everyone uses—'the net'—and found out the place blew up three days ago. No official police report yet. The press listed everything from a gas leak to gang turf wars, so it could be anything. Why'd you ask about it? And why are you walking around?"

"It's the place where we got your suit."

"That Japanese guy's house?"

"Yes, Akira's. He's missing, and when I went to check on him, his house was just… gone." I crossed my arms. "What's that supposed to mean, why walking?"

"You know exactly what I mean. You can bend space. You teleport everywhere. Did you lose your powers or something?"

I started peeling off my outer clothes. "You really think that's the only reason I'd walk? I just felt like it. So I did, asshole."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Just concerned, that's all."

"You going somewhere too?" I asked, nodding at his backpack while pulling off my wig and sending it back into my Domain.

"I'm expecting Zoe any minute. I wanted to take her into my Domain, do some exploring. Packed towels and food. Thought a little vacation time might do us both some good." He paused, smirking. "So please, no sudden teleportations unless you want to stumble in on us, you know…"

"Having sex on the beach?" I asked, dead serious.

"…yeah, kind of."

"Word of advice," I began, intending to warn him about sand being coarse, rough, and getting everywhere, but then I remembered his sand worked differently and lost my train of thought.

"What advice?" he asked, snapping me back.

"Nothing. You're a big boy. You'll manage just fine."

Right then, a knock came at the door. Peter jumped to open it.

"Hello, Zee," I said, waving as he helped her take off her jacket. She slipped off her boots and came over to hug me.

"Hello yourself," she said, kissing me on the cheek. "Those crackers you gave me yesterday were godsent!"

"This was yesterday?" I asked, unsure.

"Yeah, why? Something wrong?" Zoe tilted her head, while Peter came closer, looking suspicious.

"No, it's just… my days have stretched so much lately that you wouldn't believe how many things I've done since I gave you those crackers."

"Told you," Peter cut in. "You never walk anywhere. You also don't sleep."

Zoe looked at him, then back at me, concern softening her eyes. "What did you do?"

"I might be forgetting something," I began, "but I was in Boston, at Harvard, meeting mages in their Guild. Then I was in Ideworld's Bronx, where I followed a trail of blood to Van Cortlandt Park, fought Coyote-like werewolves, and ghosts of Native Americans." I took a breath. "Then I basically went straight back to uni, met up with Malik, teleported with him into Ideworld again, came back to Earth, and investigated a house that had been blown up."

I smiled toward Peter at that part, but the more I spoke, the paler both of them got, as if I was draining the color straight out of their faces.

"Then," I continued, "I took a bus and went to buy a pistol. Came back here by bus again, because I do walk sometimes. Thank you very much."

By the time I finished, Zoe's mouth was hanging open.

"That's pretty much it," I said lightly. "Didn't want to bore you with too many details, but oh! I forgot the funny part. I got hit on by a woman at the Mage's Guild. She's a mage of the Domain of Artistic Creation too. Kind of neat, right?"

"I don't even know what to say to all of that," Peter replied. "I woke up, went for a run, swam for an hour, hit Uni, grabbed lunch, came back here to prep for our little exploration trip and up until now, I thought my day was full."

"Are you tired?" Zoe finally asked.

I thought about it. "No, not really. Not physically, at least. It's just getting harder to keep track of everything I have to do. I might have to paint myself another brain," I joked.

"Seriously?" Zoe asked.

Would that even work? Eyes do. Ears do. Fuck. That might actually be worth a try.

"I don't know," I admitted.

Peter shifted, clearly noticing Zoe's growing concern. "You know," he said quickly, gently steering her a little away from me, "I think she's fine, Zoe. No need to overthink it, right, Sis?"

I almost laughed. He was trying to protect her and himself from my chaos. I was accidentally cockblocking him, and I didn't even realize.

"Yeah, go ahead, lovebirds." I waved them off to Peter's visible relief, though Zoe's expression was still worried.

"You sure? Maybe you'd like to come with us, swim a little? Rest?"

Peter stood behind her, face slowly reddening. If I'd asked him then if I should go, he'd have broken his sacred truth policy on the spot.

"Yes," I said with a soft smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Go, have fun. I actually want to try something else. Something kind of important to me."

"Okay," she said, and pulled me into a hug. I returned it.

"Zoe…" I urged after a moment, watching her still hesitate. "Go, or this guy will actually close his private island."

"He wouldn't dare," she shot back, sending Peter a vicious look. I loved her for that fierceness.

Peter just sighed, took her gently by the arm, and guided her toward the door that led into his Domain. The air shimmered as bright white and blue light enveloped them both, swallowing their outlines until only their silhouettes remained.

Just before the shadowlight faded, they turned toward me one last time, Peter's face set and serious, which, knowing him, meant he was grateful I hadn't blown this for him; Zoe's still tinged with concern, but softened by a hint of a smile.

I didn't want the moment to stretch too long. With a breath, I teleported into my own Domain.