The Mage

Chpt 6: Outside

(Serenity’s POV)

My mind was craving some air. The puzzle I had just begun to explore hummed beneath my skin, a restless buzz that made it hard to think clearly. Thoughts clashed and scattered through my brain, throwing around so many questions that there wasn't enough space for all of them. I stepped away from the portrait before the golden eyes could pull me back in and let my heels carry me toward the front of the castle. The clicking of my shoes kept rhythm with my breath, one foot then the other, a steady beat in the silence of the corridor.

The castle's front hall opened before me like a cathedral. Beneath its grand glass ceiling, I noticed tiny details of angels and kings; the mural itself demanded attention. I always paused here. I couldn’t help it. The stained-glass angels in the panes told a story as you walked: wings spreading, trumpets raised, a procession of light moving across the sky. Their colors shifted with each step — blues deepening, golds brightening, reds glowing like embers from a lamp.

Archangel Michael stood at the center, sword raised high. The blade seemed to have a soul of its own — pure, terrible, alive. Mother always said a mortal touch would curse it to ash. I hoped Michael would never have to face that rumor. I hoped none of us would.

I lingered beneath the glass a little longer, letting the colors wash over me and soften the frantic edge of my thoughts. But the air inside the castle felt too heavy, too filled with secrets and echoes. I needed to go outside, even if what lay beyond wasn’t truly a sky.

When I pushed the heavy doors open, the air beyond felt different — thinner, sharper, with a faint metallic tang from the barrier surrounding our kingdom. The painted skies above weren't the sky at all, but the breath held tight to our world. The black screen around us shows no stars, only our lamps and the barrier’s faint glow illuminating the streets.

The houses clustered like small, enchanted cottages — white and wooden with silver and blue trim — each one a tiny universe of its own. Cobblestones sparkled beneath the lamps, and every step I took made a stone glow for a moment, fairy magic responding to my footfall. The light pulsed gently, as if the rocks were greeting me, remembering me.

Childhood memories flooded with warmth. Nanari and I would race through these streets, laughing as the ground tried to keep up. The stones shimmered beneath our feet, leaving a trail of light as if we were shooting stars. For a moment, I felt small and free again, hair flying behind me, lungs full of joy rather than fear.

I burst out laughing, a sound that even caught me off guard, and ran with heels clacking, arms stretched wide, letting the kingdom crash into me. The lamps hummed overhead, the barrier shimmered faintly in the distance, and the world felt briefly, impossibly bright. I was so caught up in the memory that I overlooked where I was going.

I ran into someone solid, warm, and very real, and I stepped back quickly. Embarrassed, I bowed three times before daring to lift my eyes. My cheeks burned so intensely I thought they might catch fire.

“Princess Serenity? No need to apologize.” His voice, warm and familiar, threaded with quiet confidence, made my heart flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the collision. Peter stood before me, as real as the light he bent during training. His presence was like stepping into the spotlight: unexpected, blinding, and a little too warm.

I embarrassed myself in front of him. My knees felt weak, but not because I tripped. When he smiled, the whole world seemed to shift to the curve of his mouth and how his eyes crinkled at the corners. For a silly moment, I rehearsed a dozen clever things to say — something witty, something graceful, something that would catch his attention.

All that escaped was a clumsy, breathless, “Thank you.” I wanted to tell him I’d been watching him from the practice yard, that I liked the way he moved — precise, fluid, like he was an angel gracefully gliding through the sky. I wanted to tell him I admired how he treated the younger trainees — patient and encouraging, never condescending. But the words folded into my ribs and stayed there, too shy to surface.

“You can stop bowing now, Princess,” he said, amusement softening his voice. His smile made my knees go weak all over again. I straightened, feeling both mortified and relieved. "You know,” he added, catching me off guard, “I’ve seen you in the halls. You look like someone who notices things others don’t.”

The words hit me harder than they should have, not because they were flattering, though they were, but because it felt like he had reached into my chest and brushed against something I kept hidden — something small, aching, and private.

My mind scrambled to find something sensible to say. Anything. I managed, “Thank you. You seem kind as well.” My face flushed. The compliment felt awkward and painfully honest.

Peter laughed, a sound that could only come from angels. “Princess?” he teased softly, then his expression shifted, growing serious in a way that made me lean in involuntarily. “Would you perhaps like to hang out?” The world narrowed to the beat of my heart. He had asked me to spend time with him. My chest felt too small for all the air I wanted to breathe. I couldn't think of a response that didn’t sound foolish, so I let the silence speak for me while my pulse pounded in my ears.

He waited patiently, quietly magnetic, as if he had all the time in the world. The lamps around us hummed softly. The distant hush of the castle felt miles away. For the first time that day, the noise in my head quieted enough for me to hear something else — a small, steady voice telling me to say yes.

"I..." I began, and then, because the moment felt fragile enough to break if I didn’t hold it gently, I nodded.

Peter’s smile widened, warm and bright. “Good. I know a place near the eastern gardens where the lamps are low, and the air smells like magic. We could go after the evening lessons.”

I wanted to tell him about the book, Magdalene’s words, and the memory in the gallery — how my father’s initial had burned into the margins. I wanted to tell him everything and nothing all at once. Instead, I said, “I’d like that.”

He bowed, a small, playful bow, and then, as if recalling something, added, “If you find anything troubling in those foreseer volumes, tell someone you trust. If you want, please let me know. I like puzzles.”

There was a gentle softness in his offer that felt like a hand reaching out. But when he said it, his eyes flicked briefly toward the gallery doors. The smile that followed was almost too quick, as if he had practiced it. It didn’t make me distrust him; it made me curious. Curious in a way that felt like a small, dangerous thing.

I almost agreed for a different reason: I wanted to be near him, to understand the shape of his laugh and how his hands moved when he talked. Instead, I agreed to the magic and the lamps, which felt safer and somehow more authentic.

We parted with a promise to meet again later. I walked back toward the castle, each step lighter than the last. The portrait’s golden eyes awaited me in the gallery, and the whisper of prophecy still lingered at the edge of my thoughts. But for the first time in days, a quiet, steady warmth blossomed in my chest that had nothing to do with fear.

As I crossed the practice yard, I saw Nanari talking with Peter near the training ring. They exchanged a quick, polite bow; Nanari’s posture was the same calm grace she always carried. I told myself it was nothing — a passing courtesy between two people of the court.

That night, I stayed awake, thinking about Peter’s invitation, Magdalene’s warning, and The Black Book that could be hidden in some secret vault. The threads of the day tangled together — fear, hope, curiosity, and a new, trembling possibility. I didn’t know which thread would unravel the rest of the tapestry, but I realized I couldn’t ignore any of them.

Before sleep overtook me, I took Morgan Magic from beneath my pillow and pressed it to my chest. The leather felt ordinary and calm in my hand, but the words inside were not. I wrapped it again and tucked it away, promising myself I would learn more in the morning. I will go back to the library, and I will work on calming my magic.

Tomorrow evening, if the world doesn’t tilt too far toward chaos, I will meet Peter by the eastern gardens and try, for a little while, to be simply Serenity.