Naturally the parents eventually took notice how their kids kept disappearing and assumed that they were up to no good. But since no complaints arose from the neighbourhood, they eventually settled down and lessened the frequency of their inquiries, if favour of letting the kids be kids while they could. Well, Dione did break once. She could not handle the pressure of her parents and so she spilled out her beans, and the beans for dinner. Luckily her parents did not believe the story of an invisible Secret House of Mysteries, or that she could control and play with shadows themselves. Wild ideas put forth by Pandora, as usual, Diono's parents shrugged after making their daughter point the house to them in vain.
Hence even more weeks came to pass. Weeks of fun and discovery that in small ways had started to change the very house itself. Changes that Pan would have never excepted to witness when he finally gets ready to lift and push aside the hatch on the cellar floor.
A deep breath in the darkness before the hatch above creaks and makes a sound far worse than a nail dragging against a chalk board. What climbs up is dirty, dishevelled, and a smelly humanoid figure. Pan is nearly unrecognisable under all the layers of dirt that cover him, not to mention how his cloak is in tatters barely kept together by the crude half torn needle work. As for the old rat, it lies on his shoulder, almost like a limp toy with the exception that the old rat snores and wheezes in its blissful sleep.
The boy blinks his eyes, he doesn't recognise the place he has arrived to. He cannot fathom his mistake; he knows the passages under his home like his own pockets, yet the cellar he is standing on is stocked with barrels and crates. There is not a loose nail to be seen and every inch of the cellar is almost sparkly clean. Thus the flakes of dirt that fall off from Pan are obvious even to the tired boy himself. And so his instinct tell him to back down and try to scrape most of the dirt with him. Yet as he continues to look around half stunned, he begins to recognise those marks left by branches on the wood ceiling. The different shades of the bricks walls. Even how the stairs reveal a somewhat familiar worn surface. He is at home.
Sounds of hasty approach float and echo down into the cellar, and Pan has to make a quick decision on whether he flees back down or confronts whoever has claimed his home in his absence. He quickly grabs the rat off his shoulder and shoves it into his pocket. The old rat can only release a faint squeak of protest while Pan is already dashing up the stairs. His cloak waves behind him as he flies onwards and leaps into the kitchen area, only to slip, and fall down on his back.
Pan feels the cold ice under his back as his fingertips slide on the cold slippery surface. Loge stands above him, with her fist enveloped with fire. The two stare at each other for a while, until the girl finally asks: 'You have been gone for almost three months. Where did you go?'
Pan tries to smile, but his face remains bound into a weak frown. 'Wights, were-rats, miners, and who knows what. Things happened.'
'You look terrible.' Says Loge, and the other kids nod and murmur in agreement. 'Uh, do you want something to eat?' She adds, pointing her hand towards the pot.
The old rat manages to get out and up form the boy's pocket. The rat walks slowly right on top of the boy's chest and stares at the girl and her group of little magelings. The sprouts of potential future magisters. 'No time.' The rat spits out the words with a louder voice than usual.
The other kids are startled by the talking rat, but Loge quickly explains how the rat is an old magister familiar. A piece of half-truth that ties into the stories she has told to her young friends. Thus as the old rat kicks the boy up and almost chases him to move up, ever up along the stairs, the other children can only step aside and watch as they go confused by it all.
Pan's feet barely manage to climb over each step. The burst of speed and the sudden fall has left his body more sore and cumbersome than it was before. But he climbs upwards and the steps of the stairs along with the floor panels are not leaving a single peep or squeak. It is almost as if the entire house had been reborn once he was away.
When he at long last opens the door to the attic, to his room, the old rat demands him to take out the sacks and pouches off his belt. The old worn pieces of found leather to hide the jar of dirt, and the seeds given by the Wight King. As many times before, the boy takes out a one tiny seed and plucks it into the soil. He gathers the every ounce of focus his mind and spirit alike can muster, and does his best to will the seed sprout, to begin to grow right before his eyes. A feat not that different from a nudge in the right place, a little encouragement, and so the seed bursts into greedy roots and spreads upwards as a lone white tendril.
Pan gives a sigh, and he lets the old rustic clay pot rest before him. He falls on his back, he takes a moment of rest before he asks: 'And?' His tone comes with both frustration and annoyance. 'I know how to do this already. I had no choice but to learn it. Remember?'
The old rat wipes its whiskers with its tiny paw and releases a barely audible squeaky chuckle. 'Oh yes, you learned to suck moisture and nutrients from the cracks of stone. To leech strength and sustenance like a real plant... After all you had no choice. We had no choice.' The rat lets out a long satisfied sigh, like a workman at the end of a long day under a sun. 'And now it is time for the final lesson. Say the word and make the seed grow again.'
'What word?' The boy asks.
The rat shakes his head and just waves his tiny arms around; 'Just look where we are.'
Pan scratches his head, and eventually he utters the trigger word: Illuminoia. The walls and ceiling turn translucent. The somewhat dank and dark attic bathes in the sunlight found above the streets. The boy takes deep breaths, he had almost forgotten the view in the drudgery of the sewers, ruins, and mines.
The rat's eyes focus and peer towards the boy in sheer anticipation, and eventually, groaningly Pan pokes the white sprout and something unexpected happens. The sprout jolts in size, other tendrils rise from the stem and sprout into saw blade shaped leaves, and into buds that soon open and bloom as round and bright yellow flowers. This growth shows no sign of stopping, and eventually the old jar cannot withstand the strain and simply cracks as it is held in Pan's small hands. The boy drops it all as his hand shake uncontrollably. 'How?' He stutters.
'You already know how boy, you nudged it to happen, you felt how it happened. So how about you tell me what was different?'
'The plant, the dandelion, it somehow drained power from the light. It somehow used the heat of the Sun to feed?'
The old rat grins and grins. 'In a way yes. But the truth and actual details behind it all is much more complicated, but what you need to know now is that there is power in the Sun. It is like a giant, and very distant, sphere of uncontrollable fury and energy. It was already burning well before the days when the first gods reached beyond the the veil of heavens, and it will continue to burn well after the last. So what you need to do now is relax; let go of your fears and chains that bind your soul into your body flesh. Open your heart and mind to its fury, and devour until you feel like you are ready to burst.'
What can the boy do? He sits down onto the floor and closes his eyes. The warmth of the Sun glares down and warms his dirty face. He breathes slowly. Pan's mind goes over the sensation he felt from the plant, how it absorbed and transformed the light of the sun. Like a hundred million tiny sparkles all over him, the boy feels the fury of the Sun bombard his body as he tries to force his will to mimic what the plant did out of its nature. Creatures of flesh and blood are different to those of roots and leaves, but even still there exists those distant similarities and echoes of old truths. The boy's face spreads into a wide albeit gooffy smile. The energy of the Sun flows into his body, it heats the blood inside his veins, and collides inside his very heart to rekindle a furnace almost forgotten. A single beat of Pan's heart roars louder than what his body can recall. It sends shivers to every corner of that small and tired body, and thus the boy's lone eye opens bewildered. Every breath he takes feels almost intoxicating.
'That is
what being alive feels like.' The rat states, before his tone turns sour; 'But I am afraid it will not last. This is not a cure. It just gives you more time. But I promise, time you have nowwill not be squandered for naught, this I swear to you on my heart and soul.'
The two stare at each other in silence, and suddenly squeaks and bends of the wooden planks of the door itself grow a bit too loud. The old rusted nails of the hinges do not support the combined weight of the kids behind it and thus the door just falls down along with the kids leaning against it.
Pandora and Loge groan as they are stuck and caught between the door and the other kids, but they jolt up with fingers pointing towards Pan. They cry out together: 'You can make plants grow!' After which they look at each other seemingly unable to say anything else about it.
'I guess it is nice if you wish to become a farmer,' Atlas retorts with a cough or two to his fist.
Hip chuckles at first before he realises how Pan's talent has the best monetary edge of all their skills and talents. People need to eat, and the one eyed boy could grow vegetables to sell in his own backyard, so Hip is the first to stop laughing. Suffice to say that his mind goes along to scheme for the future while his fingers tap against each other while cracking random jolts of electricity.
The twins Hati and Narvi rush towards Pan and help him to get up. They pat off some of the grime and dirt on his clothes, before turning to the pieces of the shattered flower pot to put the shards back together. In the hands of the twins, the pieces of the jar simply merge to a sphere of burnt clay before twisting and bending to be just a regular flower pot. The final touch is but a simultaneous flick of index fingers, sparkles spread and fly on the surface of the pot, and then twins just let it drop. The jar falls, hits, and bounces few times before rolling all the way to the feet of Pandora. The twins freeze, their smiles twist slightly down.
Pandora looks to the flower pot as Loge herds the rest of the kids to get up from the floor and to stand up properly. Pandora picks up the pot and stares right into it. An almost indestructible flower pot in her hands, how it could be dropped down to the heads of unsuspecting jerks a hundred times if not more. But as the heads of jerks might not make through the collision in similar fashion she drops the line thought. Pandora almost casually flicks her fingers towards the pile of dirt around the overgrown dandelion plant and specks of dust rise upwards and then dart to fall inside the pot she holds on her hands. She gives a slight snort and then takes the few steps needed to hand it back to Pan. 'There you go, flower boy.'
Pan tries to protest, but his words only fall to deaf ears. Most of kids wander around in the room, gazing the view before them, the roofs and towers of their home city. Some of them point out the banners they recognise, and where they would want to go someday. But little by little they also loose their interest on the scenic view and one by one decide to climb down stairs. After all the attic does not particularly contain all that much beyond the basic necessities that Pan had dragged there himself years before. So, the one eyed boy lingers to watch until even Loge and Pandora finally head down themselves.
Once the old rat manages to climb back onto Pan's shoulder the asks: 'Are you not curious to know what they can do now?' The old rat makes no effort to hide his own interest as his eyes almost sparkle at the sheer prospect of how he could, in due time, make best out most of the talents that were gathered in the attic.
The boy takes his time to think for an answer and finally utters the words; 'If you knew it before, I think you were not too happy to hear Loge's and Pandora's plans. At least not the last time we saw each other.'
'Well, it seems I was wrong.' The rat replies sheepishly.
'I do not think they are the sort to crawl through the dirt of the sewers, to bow down to the Rat-Kings and steal on their demand.'
'You are right, boy. You are right, but their skills will continue to mature. It is how it always works. Magic is kind of like a snowball rolling down the hill, slowly turning into an avalanche, and all it takes is that one little push.'
'A snowball is pushed into what?'
The old rat releases a sigh. Sometimes he simply forgets that Pan has not travelled beyond the walls of city. Not as he had under the centuries of bound servitude under the whims of the Arch Magister Surtur. So the old rat tells tales of massive mountains covered in thick blankets of snow. He tells of frozen rivers and lakes that could form walls of ice. And finally how a loud sound or a simple ball could cause an entire blanket of snow or wall of ice to tumble and rumble down burying everything in its path. Even mighty Arch Magisters.
Pan simply nods at the end of the rat's tales and descriptions. The boy can feel how his heart beat is slowly turning slower as the heat and warmth begins to fade. A cruel reminder that his life is still cut short, how he might never live to see what lies beyond the city itself. Before the old rat departs, he reminds how Pan shall one day see the world.
Thus as the boy sits alone his stomach begins to grumble. A kinder reminder of how he is still nevertheless alive. As he chuckles, his mind goes over the fact how it has been a long while since he actually ate something real. The boy laughs louder as his stomach continues to rumble like a thunderstorm. A rumble that is cut short when Pan receives the greatest scare in his life. As he shrieks like a crow hit by a shoe.
What had terrified him so was nothing but the little Bergelmir tugging at Pan's cloak. He is offering his sandwich. A sandwich Bergelmir pulled out from the sack he always had slung over his tiny shoulder. His mother makes him do it as she cannot quite be at home to look after the young boy, or to give him snacks along the day. 'Take it. You are hungry.' The boy motions.
'Where did you...How long have you... You have been here all along?' Pan finally realises while the younger boy continues to nudge the sandwich towards him. Pan takes it. He stares at the sandwich and finally takes a small bite and realises how he has almost forgotten how to eat.
Bergelmir smiles and takes a few steps back. 'Illusions. The others are not so good at turning themselves invisible. Not me though.'
Pan's mouth is full, but he still mumbles out the words: 'Why did you stay up here?'
'Because you and Loge are odd.' He says frankly and bluntly.
'Odd? Why? What has she told you?'
'That you are brother and sister, Magister's kids, made to sleep for centuries for your own safety. A big shush secret.'
Pan stops half-way through the sandwich, and he stares at the younger boy. 'Do you believe her.'
'I followed her, when those two were-rat's lurked in the shadows of our neighbourhood. One dressed as a monk and the other as a merchant. When she met them, she drove them back to the sewers by leaping out as a creature of pure fire. The fire caught on in that alleyway. I think it could have burned the nearby block had not the residents smelled the smoke. I do not know how she ran away from it. I found it hard, and I was invisible.' The boy looks away; 'I do not know what she is. I do not know what you are.' Bergelmir's eyes stare right towards Pan.
'She is a girl. I am a boy.' A moment of silent staring before Pan continues with; 'A hungry boy.' And takes a big bite from the sandwich and mumbles his thanks with a full mouthful.
Bergelmir chuckles and seems satisfied with the answer and then asks, how the walls turned invisible in the first place. Pan demonstrates by saying the trigger word on and off again, until finally letting the walls remain visible. He mentions to the younger boy how neat it looks when it rains, to see all those tiny drops of water just explode when they hit the roof.
Yet as the light from the window casts their shadow onto the opposite wall, the young Bergelmir notices how Pan's shadow looks different. It is not that of a human being. The thing that looks back at him on the surface of the wall is a four legged, a dog like creature with three blank spots as its eyes. Something almost like the wolf of bed time stories but not quite. He points his finger, and when Pan turns to look he sees nothing but his own shadow.
A shadow that does whatever the Pan does.
In fact Pan tries to make his shadow appear as a shadowy dog by twisting his body into odd forms. Until he gives up and just says that it must have been the big banners and flags that had cast the shadow before. Both of them nod as it is possible, sensible .
What Pan does not mention is how he too has seen glimpses of a fox shaped shadow just in the corner of his eye. Always out of sight, but a presence he started to feel ever since he first received the pouch of dandelion seeds from the Wight King. Thus to put his own mind at ease, to push his unease away, he mentions to Bergelmir how he too should have a knack for illusions.
'You want to learn how to turn yourself invisible?' Bergelmir asks, and Pan is forced to say yes. But he offers to show how to conjure some really scary looking illusions in return.
The two boys head down to meet up with the rest, and Pan is whisked away with the life that has taken a hold in the old house. He is made to bath, as the twins and Pandora do their best to fix his broken clothes. The first attempts are quite disastrous as Pandora's telekinetic needle work turns Pan's clothes into a tight ball of fabric, but the twins there are to help by reforging the fabric for Pandora to try again, and again. The end result is not that different from what his clothes were before. A mere patch work of different fabrics tied together, but still more durable thanks to the shared efforts of the two twins. All in all, the changes and happenings around prove little bit too much for him to take it all in on the go and so for the rest of the day he simply wanders from room to room as the others go about their usual routines.
Chapter 5:
It is late in the evening. The other kids have gone to their homes. Out of them Pandora was the last to do so. The last to jump down from the open window and to sneak back to her home in all quietness lest she face the wrath and questions of her mother. For her, her innate talent of telekinesis has proved to be of great use to sneak back into her locked room, as she can keep her room locked from the inside. Well, she does suspect that her mother must know of her disappearances, but she thinks that it will be fine for as long as she is not caught red-handed while leaving or entering.
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