“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Erika said, beaming at her feather-like symphonic crystal, now set into a metallic fixture attached to a delicate golden chain. She held it up to the light, marveling at it.
“Make sure you wear it,” Enrique said, his already clasped around his neck, the crystal itself tucked under his shirt. “And don’t let everyone see it all the time. You never know what ne’er-do-wells or brigands might see you and want your crystal for themselves.”
Roland smiled, watching them. Tsubasa had made good on her promise, finding the best artisan in Twinkling to set the twins’ crystals as pendants, and the results were magnificent.
“You don’t know anything about them beyond the basic nature of their quest, do you?” Tsubasa asked, watching them with him.
“That’s all,” Roland said. “The quest was originally their parents’.”
“Whose fate is unclear,” Tsubasa said. “I tried cleverly broaching the subject, but they just won’t say.” There was something grim in her eyes. “I’m not sure they know what’s become of their parents.”
“If so, that only deepens the mystery surrounding them,” Roland said.
Tsubasa nodded, humming thoughtfully. “They’re charming, though, aren’t they?” she asked, breaking into a smile. “And awfully kind. I don’t suspect them of anything. I just… the more we know, the more we might be able to help them. That’s what I think.”
“And there’s the natural detective in you, of course,” Roland said.
“There is that!” Tsubasa said, laughing. “I can’t help but want to answer every question. And they are full of questions. But unlike you, the truth about them is not so easily deduced.”
Roland considered that for a moment, then declined to argue with that assessment.
I’ll take it as a compliment.
“To take the wishes of the world to Elysia,” Tsubasa said, smiling. “What a wonderful quest. I still can’t figure out the link that sets the Masks on their trail. But I will!” She looked at Roland. “What desire do you have to reach Elysia? It’s not just to help the twins, or as a natural outcome of you completing the Path of the Eight.”
“I… have a wish of my own,” Roland said. Tsubasa was clearly curious, but didn’t press. “And you?” Roland asked.
“Oh, I have a wish, too,” Tsubasa said. “Wishes are… surprisingly personal, aren’t they? It’s funny, the things we like to keep to ourselves.”
Roland murmured his agreement. He thought of asking something, but stopped himself.
Of course, Tsubasa noticed. “Don’t be shy,” she said. “Come on, what’s on the tip of your tongue?”
“Before you rescued us,” Roland said, “you spoke to me. But it was almost like you were right behind me, speaking in my ear… yet you couldn’t have been there. You entered the clearing and leapt into action far away from us and… I’m just wondering. How did you manage that?”
Tsubasa smiled proudly. “I just used a technique that’s been passed down through my family for generations!” she said.
“What technique is that?” Erika asked as she and Enrique rejoined Tsubasa and Roland.
“I’ll show you!” Tsubasa said, grinning. She took a step back from them, and then another. “Roland, won’t you stand beside the twins for a moment?” Roland obliged, and Tsubasa took another step back. “All right, then.” She cocked her head to the side, and when she spoke next…
“Watch out behind you, friends!”
Her voice came from behind them! Roland and the twins all jumped, and Roland found himself fascinated, because he could see Tsubasa in front of him, moving her mouth, her lips synced to the words she spoke. But for the words to come from behind him, so perfectly, as if she was right there…
“You can manipulate the point of origin of your vocal resonance?” he asked, gaping at Tsubasa.
“Mm… close,” Tsubasa said, thankfully now speaking normally, without casting her voice elsewhere. Roland was grateful — it was rather unsettling seeing one thing and hearing another. “Maybe that’s right, actually. Grand-da never went into the mechanics. Neither did my parents. They just taught us, and we did it.” She shrugged. “Pretty cool, right?”
“Amazing!” Erika said, beaming.
“To cast your voice like that, so that both start and end are outside yourself, elsewhere from the body producing the voice…” Roland murmured, thinking it over. Even though he could theoretically understand the end result, to actually pull off such a feat was more mind-boggling the more he thought about it.
“Don’t sweat the specifics!” Tsubasa said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get going.”
“Going where?” Enrique asked. “What’s our agenda?”
“We’ll explore the town,” Roland said. “I don’t have much of a specific route to follow, until sunset draws near. Then we’ll head to Culinary Carnival for dinner, and up to the hills for stargazing.”
“The night is perfect for it!” Tsubasa said, gazing up at the sky. “It’s so clear. You two are in for a treat.”
Twinkling was another lovely town along the path Roland had selected to start their journey. Set on the slopes of a collection of round, grassy hills, it was full of domed, circular buildings, none of which were impressive in size, but all made up for it with impressive designs and artistry. The stars that were so easy to see in the night sky out here proved a constant inspiration for the residents of Twinkling, and so every house, shop, and facility was decorated with painted walls, sculpture gardens, hanging ornaments, and more. Colors were everywhere, dazzling and imaginative, offering scenes from all across Wonderia and Albia, of characters real and imagined, realistic and impressionistic and every style in between. On the western, more bustling, side of the town was the art institute, a quaint but potent force for the artistic community, where a student body that capped at thirty attended rigorous one-year programs under master painters, sculptors, and more.
And then there was the center of the town. Not on the highest slopes — because those were kept clean and undeveloped, open for visitors to lay out on the grass and watch the stars from the best vantage points — but in a nonetheless prominent location was Twinkling’s Starshine Observatory. A wide, round, two-story building with a marvelous dome, it housed one of the most powerful and variable telescopes in all the realms. Not the largest, no — that dubious honor went to the Mammoth Starscope of the Cyril Republic’s Astronomical Institute — but arguably the most powerful, with crafte- and arte-enhanced lenses, multi-layered crystalline glass, and a patented, innovative “flexi-sight” system all working together to allow for the deepest probings into the mysteries of the night sky, as well as backing things way off for more humble, low-scale magnification of what lay closest to the land below. There was quite a bit of spirited argument in certain scientific communities about whether or not Vesper Brahe, creator of Starshine’s “Hebrides Helioscope,” should be forced to share her secret innovations with Albian institutes. She was firmly not interested in discussing the secrets of her invention, famously (or infamously) stating, “I merely used what was right in front of me, in the simplest way possible. If Albian scientists cannot make sense of my Helioscope and replicate its success, the problem lies with their tiny minds, not my unwillingness to do the work for them.”
Roland found her attitude equal parts inspiring and disappointing, and he was never quite sure which part of him should prevail. There was something exciting about someone discovering things for themselves, creating something that all people can use to their hearts’ content, yet refusing to divulge its secrets, maintaining the mystery and challenging others to do something equally impressive. Scientific advancement depended on great minds pushing themselves to grasp the impossible, to ask question for themselves and then test, experiment, and find the answers. But at the same time, so much of scientific advancement also came from collaboration, from sharing and discussing, from community, not solitude. From transparency, not secrecy.
Reflecting on all of this reminded Roland of spirited debates on that very same topic with a close colleague at the Tower, bringing a nostalgic smile to his face.
They spent their evening eating dinner at the Culinary Carnival, a series of booths and attractions on Twinkling’s flattest, widest hilltop. After dinner they strolled amongst the attractions, Roland delighting in the twins’ reactions to all the new sights and sounds — and realizing that Tsubasa, at heart, was as much a child as they were. She oohed and ahhed at jugglers and fire-throwers, clapped with glee for magicians and illusionists, her eyes sparkling at every turn.
And yet, Roland also noticed a readiness about her. Despite seeming at a glance so relaxed, given over to the activities and fun, there was a slight tension, a readiness in her poise and stance. A few times he caught her eyes doing a quick sweep of the crowd, a brief wary glint to them. Little things, details he wouldn’t notice if he hadn’t also undergone martial arts training, full of meaning.
The Masks came after the twins in a café on Albia. They aren’t afraid of making a mess in public. We should be wary. But we should also be able to enjoy ourselves.
Most importantly, the twins should be able to enjoy themselves.
And enjoy themselves they did. Not only that, though. Erika took out her journal, and she and Enrique asked several strangers if they had a wish, and chronicled several more wishes to carry to Elysia. No danger came their way, and as night fell, the four of them headed up to one of the high grassy hilltops, carrying blankets and pillows, to see the beautiful sky.
“Is it really so special?” Enrique asked, watching Roland and Tsubasa spread out blankets.
“Is it special?” Tsubasa asked, standing up, hands on her hips, an excited gleam in her eyes. “Just you wait and see!”
“I’ve seen stars so many times,” Enrique said. “It’s just hard to believe that everyone’s so excited about viewing stars from this specific place.”
“Enrique, we’ve never seen Wonderia’s night sky,” Erika said.
“We saw it at Tinton Terrace,” Enrique said. “And again last night, when we camped on the road.”
“But we weren’t intently viewing it, were we?” Erika asked.
“It’s unfortunate that this isn’t the season for star trails,” Roland said. “But even with a calmer sea of stars, you’ll see just how special it is. I promise.”
“I remain skeptical,” Enrique said.
“But you’re not going anywhere,” Erika said, grinning.
They lay back on the blankets just as the sun was finishing its journey beyond the horizon. A pale purple glow still tinted the darkening sky. All around them, across numerous other hilltops, down along the slopes, and back within the town itself, thousands of people were out, watching, waiting. A hush descended on the vast crowd as the sun’s light slowly faded away, and the night sky assumed its full, deep, placid darkness.
And in that darkness — light.
Above them a deep, dark sea came alive as, one by one, stars twinkled into being. It was a viewable phenomenon, the actual act of stars “turning on” above them, winking into existence, each with their own unique, charming flair. Like snowflakes, every star was unique, in ways largely unobservable without a telescope but, even to the naked eye, one could feel the unique character of each star that came to life.
Every single night, these stars also “turned on” in different orders. Every single night, it was a different scene, a different, breathtaking light show. Roland had seen them start in the center and cascade outwards, like how a rock thrown into a pond creates a ripple, and in this case, it was a ripple that filled the sky with light. He’d seen it start from the east and ripple across to the west, and the reverse, as well. And he’d seen them come on in all sorts of seemingly random orders, patterns that were beautiful to behold even if he couldn’t make sense of them.
Tonight, for the twins’ first time seeing this wondrous phenomenon, the stars came on more slowly than Roland had ever seen them come on before — at first. One lone star twinkled into being right in the dead center of the sky, and it gleamed there, tiny and beautiful and alone, for several seconds.
Then two more joined it, both white like the first. The trio shone together, and one could have drawn a line connecting those three stars into a perfect triangle.
And then, more. The next stars, a trio of pale blue lights, appeared a great distance from the first lights, a triangle of their own. Then another trio, of charming pink, in a different corner of the sky.
Trios. That’s how the stars came to life, after those first three had fully appeared. A trio of yellow, then a trio of orange — a trio of purple, then green — a trio of deep blue, then vivid red. Over and over again, triplet stars flickered and twinkled into being, adding their light and color to the night sky. More white lights appeared, and more of other colors as well, filling in spaces here and there, steadily, hypnotically, filling out the sky’s deep ocean of darkness.
Roland heard no sound from the twins. He pulled his gaze away from the beautiful display, and saw both of them lying back, gazing up at the sky with mouths agape, eyes sparkling with awestruck delight. Roland smiled, brought back to happier days in his own youth, early in his training, when his Teacher had brought him to Twinkling to see the stars for the first time. He’d similarly been struck speechless, amazed that this gorgeous show had actually lived up to the lofty expectations his Teacher had been building up for three days prior.
When the sky was full of stars, brilliant and dazzling, a million trios arranged like perfect triangles… a new set of stars appeared. Gasps went up all along the hills, as stars turned on in a wave across the sky, a rippling, radiant rainbow that filled in the gaps between the triplets, adding movement to a strangely static display. And when that was done, dead center above them, in the last empty space large enough for a star — one white star, brighter than all the rest, beaming out in four points, a centerpiece to complete all that had been built before it.
The stars remained that way, and would remain that way, all night. The show was over, but the results remained, and for many minutes, all across the hilltops was a hushed, reverent silence. It took time to process beauty like this, to breathe it in and know its value was beyond measure.
Conversation started up slow, and remained quiet, around them. Roland’s group was one of the last to start talking, and it began with Erika, rolling over onto her stomach, journal and pen at the ready, eyeing Roland and Tsubasa with glittering eyes. “Could I chronicle your wishes, too?” she asked.
“Oh, well, I’d…” Roland started, hesitant, a prepared rebuttal dying on his lips. Erika was gazing at him so earnestly, still so awed and delighted by the starry display she’d just witnessed. To break into that joy with a refusal, no matter how respectful, would be nothing short of cruel.
My wish…
“You can chronicle mine!” Tsubasa said, laying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows like Erika. “My wish is to become the greatest martial artist of the Fuyuo Tsubamedo school.”
“And you can’t accomplish that without a wish?” Enrique asked with a raised eyebrow. “A wish for Elysia should be something you need Elysia’s miracles to accomplish.”
“Or, at the very least,” Erika interjected, pointedly not writing anything down, “a wish that is selfless, that goes beyond you.” She smiled, though. “You should have more confidence in yourself! You rescued us so easily! You’re so talented, you should accomplish that goal on your own merits. A wish is… it’s more than a goal, or an objective, or an aspiration.”
“Like Lady Abershire, from the café,” Roland said.
“That’s right!” Erika said, flipping back to an earlier page. “Her wish is to see all the children of the world learn to read, and to love reading. And she’s certainly working towards that goal herself, but that’s more than a goal. It’s something bigger than herself, too big to accomplish on her own or even with an organized coalition.”
“She could accomplish it, though,” Tsubasa said, frowning. “Organize educational groups, teach literacy to the poor and disenfranchised, work with libraries and booksellers and authors and printers —”
“But to accomplish that for every child in all the realms?” Enrique asked. “And to see it happen in her lifetime? And it isn’t just about education. She wants to spread love of books to all the children in the world. I think that’s worthy of a wish.”
“Wishes are hard to define, huh?” Tsubasa asked, sighing. “Well, then I need to keep thinking about a proper wish of my own.”
“If you want to talk about it sometime, I’d be happy to listen,” Erika said. She turned her sparkly-eyed gaze back to Roland. “What about you?”
“I…” Roland started, his voice catching. He coughed, cleared his throat, and then took in a breath, letting it out slowly.
“It’s embarrassing, huh?” Tsubasa asked, leaning towards him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Is someone a bit shy? Got a very personal wish you’re embarrassed to share?”
“In truth, I have many wishes, and it’s hard to sort through them,” Roland said. “I should only have one, though; it wouldn’t do to be so selfish. My greatest wish… I believe it’s to see the truth revealed to all the realms. What really happened, what really caused the Fracture, and… how to mend it.”
Erika beamed, and started to write, but paused as Enrique spoke up. “You ‘believe’ it’s your greatest wish?” he asked.
“It’s difficult to know for certain, the desire of one’s own heart,” Roland said. “The heart is a… fickle, temperamental, uncertain thing. And a wish is, like you said, something greater than one’s self, but the heart… it can often focus fully on the self, even when you desire to be selfless.”
“That’s an intriguing perspective on the heart,” Tsubasa said, musing. “But you seem to have a good heart to me, Roland. You put yourself on the line for these children, more than once. You’re constantly thinking of others.”
Is that… truly how I look from the outside? It’s who I would like to be.
“Could you tell us all of your wishes?” Erika asked.
Roland chuckled. “That… could take a long time,” he said. “And many of them probably don’t qualify as wishes. I suppose I… need more confidence in my own capacity.”
“Aww, he’s embarrassed by all the attention,” Tsubasa said, grinning. “Come on, then, let’s leave him alone. Erika, write down that wish, about the truth being revealed and knowing how to mend the Fracture. Even if it doesn’t end up being his truest wish, it’s a very good wish. Make it my wish! The archaeologist in me yearns for the same.”
“Don’t tell her what to write,” Enrique said, eyes narrowing. But then he looked aside at Erika, who was watching him, and nodded. Erika set to writing, humming a cheerful tune, feet kicking lightly.
“What about your own wishes?” Tsubasa asked when Erika had finished. “Have you chronicled them?”
“Our wish is our mission,” Erika said. “To fulfill what our parents set down for us to do: deliver the wishes of the world to Elysia. But that’s something for us to accomplish on our own — with help.” She beamed at Roland and Tsubasa. “If we had an actual wish…” She looked at Enrique, who looked back at her seriously. They shared a long, silent stare, an exchange without words. Slowly, Enrique turned to Roland and Tsubasa.
“We would wish to see our parents again,” he said in a soft, reverent voice.
Erika shifted over, close enough that she could rest her head on Enrique’s shoulder. Together the four of them lay on that hilltop a long while, silent beneath the many-colored stars.
They slept beneath the stars, and in the morning rolled up their blankets and hefted their pillows and started back down the hill. They had a hearty breakfast at Culinary Carnival, a decidedly more subdued affair in the morning than it had been in the evening.
“So, on to…” Erika started, then tapped her chin with the feathery end of her quill pen. “Hold on, where are we going next?”
“To an unnamed someone in an unnamed location who Roland believes can help him,” Enrique said. “Are you going to share details, now?”
“Such a shrewd kid,” Tsubasa said, laughing. “Though I gotta admit — I’m curious, too.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to be a secret,” Roland said, chuckling. “We’re going to see my Teacher’s sister. I lived with my Teacher and his sister for the first part of my training in Wonderia. Eventually my Teacher took us to different lodgings, and I know his sister got married, though I never actually met her husband. But they still live in the same place, last I checked. And she was nearly as knowledgeable about the Path of the Eight and the Greater Fantasians as my Teacher was.” He paused, considering that for a moment. “Perhaps more, actually. She was more the scholar. He was the practical learner.” He found himself smiling at the memories, even though they made his heart ache. “I want to share my most recent findings with her. I could use a reliable second opinion, and I’m hoping she has information that can improve upon my own findings. I… would like a bit more confidence going into Shureen’s Canon for the second time, if I’m honest.”
“Is she a martial artist, too?” Tsubasa asked.
“ ‘Too’?” Erika asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Roland clearly has training,” Tsubasa said, looking Roland over appraisingly. “It came from your Teacher, didn’t it?”
“It… did,” Roland started, surprised, but only for a moment. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course you could notice. Don’t overestimate my abilities, though. You’re the true martial artist. I merely have some teaching in the fundamentals. Though my Teacher was quite an accomplished fighter, that wasn’t the focus of our training. Martial arts was a last resort, a self-defense if Pact Artes weren’t viable. His sister also had training, though I never saw her in action. She was always downplaying her physical abilities.”
“A secret master, too humble to brag,” Tsubasa said, eyes lighting up. “I can’t wait to meet her!”
“And she’ll know all about Roland’s childhood, of course,” Erika said, beaming. “She’ll be able to tell us so many stories!”
“Let’s try to stay on task,” Enrique said. “We’re going to her for information and assistance, not a social visit.”
“But, wait,” Tsubasa said. “You… have you spoken to her since her brother died?”
“We… shared scattered correspondence,” Roland said, bowing his head. He still remembered every letter she’d written him, by heart. “In truth, she reached out to me when I was silent. She was too gracious, and I… was still blaming myself, consumed with guilt. I couldn’t accept her kindness.”
“Then this is your moment to make things right,” Erika said. “How far is it to her home?”
“We should be there well before lunch, if we start off soon,” Roland said.
“Then let’s go!” Tsubasa cried, leaping to her feet, tonfas in hand, twirling them with practiced ease.
As they started off across the grasslands, not following any road but instead weaving through short hills and copses of trees and flowery meadows, relying on Roland’s memory more than any map or directions, Tsubasa continued to twirl and spin her tonfas, often launching a few attacks or throwing up a few blocks at invisible opponents.
“You often have your weapons in hand,” Erika said. “Why is that?”
“It’s my Teacher’s influence,” Tsubasa said, smiling. “Familiarity breeds skill and confidence. My weapons should be a part of my body, as known to me as my own hands or feet, so I should have them in hand as often as possible. Every single technique I’ve learned should be something I can launch into at a moment’s notice, with perfect performance, no matter when the need arises. So!” She suddenly leapt into a duet of spinning aerial kicks, landed neatly, and then leapt again into a graceful, spinning backflip for good measure. Erika burst into joyous applause, and Roland clapped with her, while Enrique’s eyes widened in amazement. Tsubasa grinned, bowing dramatically. “Just like I was taught: every moment is a training opportunity.”
“No wonder you’re so amazing,” Erika said.
“You should see my Teacher,” Tsubasa said, pride in her eyes. She shot a look at Roland. “You want a quick sparring match? See what we’re both made of?”
“Oh, definitely not,” Roland said, holding up his hands in surrender, laughing self-consciously. “I’ve already seen you in action, and there’s no way I can keep up with you. At my core, I’m really a scholar, a Tuning Assistant, and, if I can complete the Path of the Eight, a Summoner. Like I said, martial arts were just taught as self-defense, more a last resort than anything else.”
“Care to see how effective your last resort is?” Tsubasa asked, eyes glinting.
“Please, no,” Roland said, shaking his head.
Tsubasa grinned, eyeing him.
An instant later, she was darting towards him. She crossed a space of twenty yards in barely a second, punching forward with her tonfa…
And Roland backstepped, threw up an arm block, pushing out with his forearm and his opposite hand.
But neither made contact. Tsubasa stopped just short of the block, and Roland stopped a moment later, realizing what she’d done. Tsubasa grinned. “Nice reflexes,” she said, lowering her weapons and taking a step back.
And Roland gasped out a breath, stepping away, shaking his head. “Don’t do that to me!” he said. “I told you I’m —”
“Too. Humble,” Tsubasa said, punctuating each word. She turned on her heel, sheathing her tonfas. “We’ll have to work on that part of you. Also —” she pointed, “it looks like we’ve arrived.”
Roland, calming his hammering heart, looked up to see, in an opening between two very familiar — though bigger than he remembered — trees, an even more familiar cottage with a blue-and-green roof. Smoke danced merrily up from a rounded chimney. Oval, stained-glass windows adorned the cottage walls, each one portraying one of the eight Greater Fantasians — from their view in front of the cottage could be seen Kirin with his fluffy tail and Viatos with her elegant wings. There were numerous flowers around the place, though they seemed a bit less well-cared for than Roland remembered. And there was a new addition — three small plots of sad-catchers, flowering clusters of tears right below the window of Kirin.
“Shall we?” Erika asked, looking to Roland. They all looked to him, and Roland took a moment to collect himself.
“Yes,” he said, but for a moment longer he just stood there, gazing at the cottage.
Six years. So much left unsaid.
I never should have pushed you away. I…
“Brave heart, Roland.”
His Teacher’s voice, engraved on his heart, echoing in his memories. He took a deep breath, let it out, and started forward. Stepping onto the slightly creaky wooden porch, he paused at the door. It was awfully silent. There was smoke from the chimney, so someone must be home. But if there was…
Why is there no music?
Roland raised a hand, his mind whirling with a million different opening lines. He couldn’t settle on one, so he’d just have to hope for the best.
Heart racing, he knocked on the door.