Al had never feared the dark, despite suspecting such fear was wholly justified. Darkness cast doubt on existence. When daylight retreated, the world seemed less solid, less reliable. Shadows prevented observation. Within Vell’s shadows, anything and everything could exist, even if, realistically, nothing did. The potentiality alone allowed fears to multiply without end. Once again, Al recalled those mocking words: Observation sustains the Cosmos. Pondering while walking, he pieced together an implication.

If reality wasn’t observed, then reality wasted away.

Al glanced around. Striding over pavement, he passed through the City’s northern district. Crowds conversed. Music rumbled. Moving along, Al felt Vell’s uproar resonate with every step, nighttime’s energy coaxing him forward. The commotion was expected. Towering above, awash with artificial lights, stood a crucial landmark: the Mystery Babylon, that casino Humpty had pointed past.

It marked his progress.

He avoided drawing attention, walking evenly despite urging to sprint. Impatience would spawn setbacks. Time tonight wasn’t important. Paranoia aside, nothing suggested the Mage would vanish before his arrival. Really, this investigation was needlessly reckless. Travelling alone—Bram still hadn’t responded—into a Mage’s workshop was far from wise, and this visit could easily be postponed. Bram usually planned their investigations thoroughly, minimizing the potential for disaster. Al lacked his prudence.

Passing the casino, he quickened his pace. Crowds shrunk. Light thinned, the growing darkness bringing back his earlier suspicion, that reality relied on observation. Al realized the idea wasn’t without merit. It overlapped with his lone lesson on magic, on how observation and perception intertwined. Reality demanded observation. Magic demanded observation. A connection existed there, but, despite Al’s efforts, he couldn’t decipher any useful information. As always, knowledge remained hidden. He shrugged.

Questions could wait. Perhaps, if all went well, Humpty’s maker would grant him his answers.

***

Within sight was the Magician’s lair. Half-built, the lower levels contrasted the upper, their flawless construction supporting an iron frame, the incomplete roof that crowned his destination. It seemed abandoned. Stuck within the limbo of laws and regulations, Al assumed, its completion prevented indefinitely. Whatever intended future was gone, the building’s husk now home for a Mage. Strange. Of all places, why settle here?

Al’s ideas were interrupted upon him noticing another obstacle. Fenced off, the area’s gate was blocked. A shadow stood beside it.

Night camouflaged them, obscuring all detail. Al waited. Minutes passed, little movement occurring between himself and the other. Were they guarding the gate? Possibilities were considered, both magical and mundane. Whoever they were, whatever their intentions, they remained in his way. Did another entrance exist? Or should he climb over the—

Light appeared.

Al blinked. Rubbing his eyes, he sighed and stepped forward. “So, already in the area?” Al called out.

Turning away from their phone, they finally noticed him. “Al?”

“You could have messaged back, you know,” he replied. “And how did you get here first? What, worried I’d screw up again if I went alone, Bram?”

Bram laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Pretty much. That said, wouldn’t you rather have someone watching your back? Strength in numbers, you know?”

“I know, I know. Still, I can’t believe you found this place before I did. How did you even get here?”

“I was nearby, luckily enough. Walking over didn’t take long.” He hesitated. “Well, you can probably guess where I wandered in from…”

Al frowned, brief confusion giving way to realization. Mystery Babylon. Casino. Right.

“Anyway, let’s stay on topic,” said Bram, turning towards the gate. “The Magician you discovered. You seem certain she lives here, but why? What tipped you off?”

“Vell’s suicide ghost. Humpty Dumpty—I mean, I found him, somehow, and questioned him on everything. Well, tried questioning him. The egghead didn’t know much, other than the location of this Magician’s workshop.”

Frowning, Bram prompted for further detail. Al recounted the night, starting with Humpty’s fall and ending with the ghost’s guidance. Exactness was unnecessary. Although his memory recorded everything, Al, recognizing Bram’s doubt, twisted the events ever-so-slightly. That pulse of something, felt while holding Humpty, was excluded; another mystery would detract from Al’s credibility. An omission wasn’t a lie. Al could tell Bram during their next meeting.

Silently, Bram listened.

“This was always the goal,” Al insisted. “We’ve tried everything else! My grandfather’s notes helped, but not much. Grimoires are fake, and the real ones burst into flames! Rumors are useless—”

“Unless they fall from the sky and hand out directions.”

Al flinched. Collecting himself, he continued. “Flukes happen. You know better than anyone, don’t you? Isn’t that why you obsess over beating the odds?”

“I only gamble when the outcome doesn’t matter,” Bram muttered, leaning against the gate. “Be honest, Al, have you thought this through? What’s your plan? To march in and demand answers? What reaction are you expecting? Mages aren’t known for their charity.”

“They can keep their pity. All I’m expecting is a chance to talk and negotiate. My plan is simple. I’ll start by explaining that I fixed her familiar, then I’ll convince her to work with us. She’ll explain the basics of magic, and, in return, I’ll share my grandfather’s research, using her knowledge to complete his legacy.”

“That’s—”

“My best bet. I owe it to myself to try.”

Bram hesitated. Looking away, he seemed reluctant to respond.

Pointless, Al reminded himself, his determination overpowering any respect for Bram’s judgement. Hadn’t he been ready to enter alone? What would waiting accomplish? Glancing towards the Magician’s home, Al decided, there and then, to leave Bram behind and unlock the gate and—

“Alright, you win.”

“Huh?”

Raising his hands, Bram shrugged. “You’ve convinced me. Let’s try talking with her, maybe we’ll luck out. Just remember to mention Humpty upfront and leave the negotiating to me, okay?”

“Okay? Are you okay?” asked Al, leaning back, processing the response. “Still tired from this morning? Need coffee or something?”

Laughing, Bram shrugged again. “This was always the goal, right? Besides, if you’re dead set on entering tonight, it’ll be better if I tag along. Someone needs to reign you in. Just watch my back and I’ll watch yours, okay?” He turned, stepping closer to the gate.

Al shook himself and jumped forward. “I’ll open the lock,” he said, withdrawing his amulet. “I’ve got my Relic, remember?”

Bram stepped aside.

Standing before the gate, mind racing, Al breathed deeply and reassured himself he wasn’t dreaming. Disbelief was reasonable. Somehow, everything had fallen into place.

In that moment, arm outstretched, his Relic caught his attention. A strange feeling overtook him. Nostalgia, perhaps? Whatever the cause, he looked over the birthright held within his hand.

Al’s amulet resembled a large key. Hanging there, ever-slightly above the lock, the object’s silver surface reflected Vell’s scattered lights. The Relic’s handle depicted a two-faced man, both young and old, staring forever forward and backward. Al recalled being told about the two aspects, how they encompassed countless pasts and futures. Moving slightly, it chimed against iron.

Click.

The gate swung open. Entering the area, side by side, they stepped onto the concrete path that led to the building’s door. Slowly advancing, Al, despite the dim lighting, surveyed their surroundings and noticed patches of grass intermixed with flowers—an oddity within this section of the city. There was even a tree nearby. Strangely rural, the place reminded Al of the land beside his grandfather’s mansion. Good. Similarities between the two locations reassured him, providing evidence that the area housed a magical resident.

Something fluttered overhead.

“Hear that?” asked Al, recalling something similar occurring atop the skyscraper.

Bram nodded. “What about it? Something that ghost warned you about?”

“No. I mean, not directly? He kept ranting about the wind or magpies or something, but I didn’t really care enough to ask him about it. Wasn’t my priority at the time, you know?” Al paused, expecting a response. Silence. Al continued, “I did question him about other stuff. It took some prying, but he eventually told me the Magician’s name.”

“Oh, really? I’m surprised they handed over an exact identity,” said Bram, now slightly ahead of Al.

“Humpty didn’t. Not exactly, anyway. It’s weird, but we shouldn’t expect Mages to be normal, right?” Al laughed, glancing around. “She calls herself Mother Goose. You know, like the person behind the original Dumpty rhyme. I guess she doesn’t take herself too seriously—”

“Why would you assume that?”

“I mean—”

Al crashed into Bram, jumping back with a jolt. Bram stood still, staring forward.

Change occurred instantly. The world shifted without warning. Spinning around, now back-to-back with Bram, Al’s heart sank, his eyes focusing onto the territory surrounding them. Everything urban was gone, swapped with the trappings of another place and time. Buildings became massive trees, their trunks rivaling the vanished structures in size, their uppermost branches exceeding them in height, their canopy obscuring countless stars. Iron fencing became continuous stone. No gates remained. Realization struck: Al and Bram were trapped, deprived of any exit.

Looking back revealed another transformation: the Magician’s home, that incomplete husk, also stood swapped with stone, swelling with renewed pride, modern efficiency replaced with ancient gusto, replaced with architecture abandoned by time. It was a castle. The upper sections remained missing. Faintly, Al spotted birds—Magpies—roosting upon broken stone.

He cursed his luck.

“Don’t panic,” Bram said, voice even, still staring ahead. “We haven’t been attacked yet. It’s possible the Mage is just inviting us inside. Either way, stay close and watch out. I’ll handle the talking.”

“Right…”

Bram started again. Following behind, Al watched their surroundings. His hand fumbled, finding and grasping the Relic beneath his clothes, grasping hard enough to draw blood had his shirt not dulled the metal. Pain still stung, courtesy of the Relic’s sharper details. It wasn’t enough. His hand shook, and Al shivered, shivered uncontrollably despite the humid air. He needed to stop. He needed something reassuring, something to anchor him in place. His amulet often reassured him. Right now, it wasn’t enough.

Previous investigations always occurred within their world. That pattern was predictable: supernatural forces would intrude onto ordinary locations, chaos would form, and someone somewhere would hire them, begging them to restore normalcy. That relationship was currently inverted. They, Bram and Al, were the ones intruding onto another world. How would such situations resolve themselves when everything was reversed?

Bram halted. Al caught himself, avoiding another crash. They were nearly upon the castle.

“What—”

“Don’t Panic. Look above, slowly. No sudden movements,” said Bram.

Al looked. Stark against starlight, a silhouette stood atop the castle. Gigantic, yet subtle. Birds fluttered but otherwise ignored it. Shrouded by night, that something standing there could easily camouflage among the stone, an ornament gracing the Magician’s home, mimicking the silence of a statue. Al squinted. The supposed statue had horns, horns and armor. Its hands gripped a massive weapon, likely an axe or spear, whose endpoint rested below it. Al looked, then looked away. He couldn’t afford neglecting their surroundings. He could remain vigilant despite the giant. He—

Bram spun, grabbing Al’s shoulder before harshly shoving him aside, knocking him onto grass, total shock becoming total dread when Al, rolling away, glanced above and realized the giant had escaped its perch.

Jumping above, rising, rising, eclipsing even the Moon, the giant’s leap finally peaked before reversing, beginning its descent towards earth, axe raised and ready and gleaming, half-swung even within the air.

Stopping and staggering onto his feet, Al sprinted—but where? Scaling the walls separating them from the forest seemed impossible given the giant, unless they gambled on the monster losing interest with distance. There were countless unknown variables. There was only one option. Gritting his teeth, Al turned around, dashing towards the initial objective. Contacting the Magician remained his sole salvation.

“Bram—!” Al shouted, as always, with wasted effort.

Earth broke upon impact. Cracking, quaking, the ground rebelled against the monster’s force, dust and dirt flaring up, the resulting clouds obscuring his already limited vision. Coughing, nearly falling, Al stopped, stopped and waved away the debris, eyes burning, then started again towards the castle. He still shook. Beneath him, rumbling subsided, but Al shook regardless. Where the hell is Bram?

“Bram—!”

Roaring began. Charged with bloodlust, the monster’s fury reverberated throughout everything, drowning out all else. Instantly, Al covered his ears, still running forward. It wasn’t enough. Recalling the skyscraper, Al, once again, felt his hearing vanish, replaced with ringing and pressure that throbbed painfully within his skull, growing in intensity. He kept running. Where the hell was Bram? He kept running, functionally blind, vaguely aware of the approaching thud…thud…thud. Ringing subsided. Dust cleared. Nearly there, Al froze.

Blocking his path stood the monster. Horns raised, sniffing air, it glanced around sluggishly before turning towards Al, staring momentarily before grunting, decision reached.

Tink. Tink.

Metal grazed the monster’s armor, reflected effortlessly. Bullets? That meant—

Bestial strength flexed, lifting the axe into position, gleaming edge resting over the monster’s shoulder. Al’s own strength faltered. The monster lunged, weapon swung overhead, intending on slaughter. Powerless, Al’s eyes widened in anticipation. Realization dawned on him: it was over.

It should have been over.

Emerging from darkness, Bram tackled Al and knocked him aside. Pain vanished. Numbness overshadowed all feeling, dulling even the impact. Al’s shock mirrored shock. Bram’s expression seared into memory, total disbelief, eyes flashing as the axe fell, cutting cleanly through flesh, through bone, slicing from shoulder to hip. Bram opened his mouth, saying nothing. Al fell. Bram fell, both pieces limp upon the earth.

Silence.

Everything was cold. Staring down, Al’s vision blurred. Heat welled within his face. Gone. Gone from this world, fallen forward, face hidden, arms sprawled, blond hair undone and stained with blood. Bram was gone, gone because of Al’s insistence, gone forever. Al couldn’t understand. Why—

“How underwhelming. Your master perished, protecting his servant. Perhaps I’m mistaken? Perhaps the servant protected the master? I wonder…” said a female voice, echoes escaping from the castle. “Parsing Humpty’s intel is tiresome, so very, very, tiresome, but I suppose even he has his uses.”

Humpty? Humpty’s intel? That meant—

“Enough sobbing! Finish the demon spawn off, brute, before he gathers his wits!”

Agonizing roar escaped the monster’s mouth, crying out, lamenting for reasons unknown. It slouched forward, axe in hand, then raised the weapon overhead, pausing slightly before execution. Al looked above. Tears streamed down the monster’s face. Time slowed. Finally, the axe fell.

Al cursed his luck. He cursed Humpty. He cursed Mother Goose. He cursed everything and everyone, every obstacle that denied him, cursed him, led him here, far from home, ensnared by disaster. Another chance. He wanted another chance. He pleaded, begging whatever would listen, ghost or angel or demon, pleaded and begged and wished, wished for just one more chance.

Al blinked. His wish was granted.

***

Darkness surrounded him. Mist swirled indistinctly. Fuzziness wavered, denying him both clarity and focus. Where was he? The axe had swung, had surely struck. Mere seconds separated him from that moment. Dread remained fresh, still expecting the monster’s attack. Nothing happened. If…the axe had already struck…

What was he holding? His arm was outstretched, hand positioned to grasp, but nothing rested against his palm. He couldn’t move. His head hurt. Vision flickered, pulsing with static, darkness casting doubt on existence. Where was he? What had happened? Was he…dead?

“Alright, I’ll tell you,” said Humpty. “Just promise not to laugh.”