Every city had a personality. That was what people had told me.

I didn’t really understand back then, as a child, listening to the minstrels sing about Astalon’s harbors and smoke-choked cities. I didn’t understand how a place like Ilbithar’s Khaddan could showcase an entire culture with a glance, or how Cassima’s Alzhir reminded people of drifting bubbles and cracked mirrors.

Now I understood.

As soon as I saw Felzan, the words leapt at me. The city was a chrysalis of blue glass, hiding a core that burned with fire and molten gold. Our ship descended from the skies and the barriers opened to let us in. And the closer we drew, the more the city revealed the kind of voice it had. I listened to the symphony of sensations that drifted up from below. Groaning wood and rustling leaves. Then chimes, metal bells ringing, and musical notes in the wind. I watched the breeze run over a set of metal instruments hanging over the branches. The sound that emerged from them was birdsong—twinkling, chipper, bright.

I caught the scent in the wind. Honey and dew, smelling of emeralds and rose and amber. Fresh bread and yeast, fruits sweet enough to color teeth.

Beneath us, people walked the streets even late into the night. They carried baskets woven from branches and grass, carrying small patches of soil within. From the earth, the glowing bulbs sprouted and cast the ground in orange light. Lamps—cultivated fireseeds, carried as if they were oil-burning flames.

Father was somewhere down there, waiting in the midst of all that chaos.

I scanned the streets for him, looking for signs. I felt as if I could find him if I looked for long enough. That I could hear his booming laugh in the crowd, or catch the scent of charcoal smoke that always followed him around.

Priscia interrupted my staring by waving a hand in front of my face.

“First time visiting Felzan?” Priscia asked, smiling wryly. “We always tell newcomers not to stare so much. The city’s so bright, after all. All the light isn’t good for the eyes.”

“My eyes are bad enough as it is,” I replied. “Don’t think I know anyone else with ones like these.”

“No, I suppose not. Can you even see with those things?”

I shrugged, “I see enough. And speaking of eyes—you should be warning someone else. That girl’s going to end up blind with how hard she’s staring at Felzan.”

I pointed my finger at Aami, leaning so far past the railings that she was about to fall off. A wide grin split her face, and all over her skin, eyes opened over her flesh, scanning over the city with the intensity of a hawk eyeing its prey. I strode over to the shoggoth and slapped her arm.

“You’re going to get us stopped at the docks if you walk out looking like that,” I said, and she pouted.

“Do I really have to go and hide myself again? The soldiers were fine with me.”

“They were. After two weeks. But we’re new here, and the riftwalkers are going to shoot at us if you slither into the city with your real form.”

Aami sighed and leaned back, before crossing her arms. All her dozens of eyes flicked to me, and I watched them close one by one until only the two on her face remained. I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Close the ones you’re hiding in your hair, too.”

“I was so sure you wouldn’t see them this time,” she muttered, shaking her head. Aami willed the eyes closed, and her hair stopped blinking at me. I smiled and turned to face the docks.

“Cheer up. Felzan’s a big city, but we’ll have plenty of time to sightsee once we set down.”

Aami slung an arm over my shoulder. She gave me a serious look.

“I’m hungry.”

“We have Priscia to cook for us until she passes out.”

She nodded at that, satisfied. Aami grinned and turned to the cook in question, pulling the poor girl into another conversation about food. I looked away just as Aami gestured about cooking something that made the other girl pale. I snorted.

Whatever that conversation was about, my ears were better off not hearing it.

Instead, I turned my eyes to the dock. Our ship broke through the canopy of leaves covering the city, flying between the branches. I noticed then that the leaves weren’t physical things, but rather light—compressed and shaped, turned into leaves by the tree itself. The ship passed through them without so much as a rustle. The lights phased right through us, fading away when we drew near, then reappearing behind the ship.

We passed them and I turned my eyes back ahead. Past the leaves was the dock itself. It was a vast network of walkways and workshops, built into the heart of the tree. Dozens of airships flying different banners and flags lined the area. They drifted beside the gangways, surrounded by magitech engineers and maintenance crews.

Heads turned to our ship as we entered the docks. And as we set down, several of the workers rushed towards us, throwing ropes and pulling the ship close.

They connected a gangway to the side of the ship and I watched the soldiers stream down.

I joined them.

We gathered at the bottom, watching the captain speak to the dockmaster. The latter glanced our way and nodded, before approaching my group. The man was burly—large enough to be a troll. But his thick arms had no stone or gems crusted within. Instead, he looked down at me, rising tall over seven feet.

The dockmaster offered me a hand.

“Honored guests,” he said, bowing. “We welcome you to the Summersky Shipyard. I am Kerban, at your service. I was told you’d have the saer’s token?”

Aami waved at him and I took his hand and shook. His grip was firm. Strong.

“We do,” I replied, taking the token from my pocket. I showed it to him and smiled, “It’s nice to meet you, Kerban. I’m Ashran. It’s nice to see a fellow blooded in Felzan. Does the city treat halflings well?”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The man grinned and laughed his booming laugh, “More than well, sir. My position on the shipyard says enough. Does your group only consist of you three?”

“Just Aami, Priscia, and myself, yes.”

“Blijen, take over!” he said, and one of the workers in the docks saluted. Meanwhile, Kerban nodded and turned, “Please follow me.”

He brought us across the shipyard and I found my eyes drawn to the towering airships as we passed. Here, they seemed like giant, slumbering beasts. The hums of their engines were snores and the subtle shift of their frames against the wind felt like the intake and release of breath. Engineers crowded over each, checking over the runes and tinkering with the hulls. Sparks flew as they burned fresh runes into the frame. Aami grabbed my arm and pointed, excited.

“Rowan, Rowan. Look!” she grinned, jabbing a finger at one of the engineers. He held a massive pen in his hand, enough that he needed two arms to carry it. Using the nib, he traced the outline of many runes. “He’s literally drawing with magic. Can you feel it? It smells all spicy and minty.”

Kerban glanced back at us, surprised.

“You have good senses, miss. That’s runic wiring he’s doing. The pen releases a sapphire dust-based glue that conducts magic well. The existing charge must be what you’re sensing.”

Aami grinned and stood a little straighter, proud.

I nodded at Kerban, “Sapphire dust is good. It has an amplification effect when activated. I bet your engineers double down on that. Paired with suncatcher resin and starglass, the sapphire—”

“—it saves a lot of power, yes,” Kerban replied, smiling. “My crew manufactures a mixture that also includes dissolved copper and firegold. The theory is that—”

“—the firegold and copper loop the mana on activation. It’s a recycling process! That’s genius. I’m assuming you also layer it over a silver coat where the runes are carved—”

“—for additional mana-retention, yes. The silver soaks in the magic and provides a secondary set of batteries to draw on during emergencies.”

“The actual batteries work on the same idea, for sure. Am I right?”

“Right on the money, sir.”

Kerban and I grinned at each other, eyes glinting. This was interesting. Revolutionary, even. I could see how it made airships far more common now than in the past. Without the need for a massive source of energy, the self-charging ships could go anywhere with enough time and ambient magic.

The dockmaster laughed as he led us to a smaller ship, basically a five-man carrier. He swiped his finger across the runes and they lit up, the ship floating off its perch as the four of us boarded.

“You know much about alchemy, sir. It’s impressive that you were able to deduce our methods at a glance.”

“I could say the same about you, knowing all the details down to the dot.”

Kerban gave a humble laugh, “It’s only part of the job, sir.”

“You’re doing excellent work. And you seem young, too. For someone with such an important position. How old are you?”

“Twenty, sir. I graduated from my airship apprenticeship two years ago.”

I shook my head, blown away as our ship pulled away from the dock. The Summerskies were a noble house, so it wasn’t a surprise that they had the best of the best. But seeing it in person? Observing the docks and talking to the man heading the operation? It put a lot of things into perspective. I was a genius in alchemy, yes. Thanks to Elanah. But here, in the heart of Caereith, at the home of the famed Summersky house?

There were geniuses aplenty.

That was somehow comforting to me, knowing that there were people like Kerban out there. It put me at ease. I didn’t have to feel bad that I wasn’t using my knowledge on alchemy to better the world. That I chose music instead of science.

There were many others out there that could do as well as I could. And some that could no doubt do better. It made me happy that my selfishness wasn’t damning the world.

I wasn’t so special in the grand scheme of things.

And that was okay.

Our boat drifted down from the treetop, and Kerban piloted us through Felzan’s airspace. Small ships like ours flew in the distance, gliding over streets and under the hanging houses stuck to the undersides of massive branches. We didn’t join them. Instead, our ship flew across a vast orchard of smaller fruit trees. A legion of gardeners tended to the trees, collecting Astalonian apples and lemons from the trees, alongside the native oranges and pears that we grew in Caereith.

Up ahead, I could see the gargantuan Summersky manor, looming over the vast gardens and roads on its high perch. It overlooked the city on an outcrop that jutted out from the mountainside, shaped like an anvil’s horn. Yellow light spilled out of the windows and blanketed the ground.

My eyes followed the length of the manor, down to the front gates where a line of servants waited for us to land. I furrowed my brows.

“Is that a welcoming procession?” I asked.

“It is, sir. The house was informed of your arrival days prior.”

“And they’re going to what, dress us up and lead us to our rooms? Have us eat a feast and meet with the masters of the house?”

Kerban laughed, “Yes, sir. It would be rude not to.”

Of course it would be.

I sighed as the ship landed, the servants immediately welcoming us as we got off the boat. Aami was grinning at them, chatting up the nearest butler as soon as he drew near. Priscia seemed right at home, holding Aami's hand as she introduced her to the ones that came to greet us. The two of them mingled with the other servants, knowing some by name.

Just looking at the sight of the manor and all the servants already made me feel tired. I approached Aami and handed her the prince’s token.

“Can I leave this with you for a while?” I asked, and she blinked.

“Why?”

“I’m not feeling like entering the manor yet. There’s other things I’d rather do.”

“I overheard some of the talking, though. There’s food inside! Aren’t you hungry?”

“Food can wait a while,” I said, before turning to Priscia. “Can I leave Aami with you? I’ll catch up with you two in a bit. I just have to…”

I looked around and the ship we rode on had already taken off, Kerban whistling at the wheel as he flew the boat away. I cursed and shot off, cutting Priscia off mid-sentence. I sank into the shadows with my boots, chasing after the ship. First friendly face I found in the city that I could talk with and he was already leaving!

Faced with the choice of spending the next few hours mingling with silk-collared nobles or talking to a pleasant dockmaster, the choice was obvious. Venti and Vivian could wait.

I’d come to Felzan for one reason, and to accomplish it, I needed directions first.

The pleasant company was just a plus.

I shadow-walked under Kerban’s ship, chasing its shadow. I dashed through the orchards and the gardens, surprising a horde of gardeners as I burst out of a shadow only to dive into the next. I followed Kerban until he passed the manor’s walls and circled, disappearing behind one of the city’s suncatcher trees.

I sighed and dove down the edge of the outcrop, falling away from the manor. I brought my bansuri to my lips and played a jittery Galesong. The wind answered, barely under Ashran’s control. It brought me down to a lower outcrop behind the tree where Kerban had docked his boat.

It was a house. His.

The building was a comfortable looking cottage, nestled into the side of the Summersky’s property. I set down on the steps leading up to it, blinking at the rustic cobblestones beneath my feet. It was a strange design to see in the city. Up the crest of the hill, the side of the house opened into what looked like an overgrown garden. The metal gate hung open and creaked under the wind.

I stepped inside and frowned at the plants left to go wild. It seemed Kerban cared little about trimming his plants. I stepped over thick roots and around wild bushes, pushing branches and tall ferns aside. I pushed deeper into the garden.

And I found its heart.

At the center of it all, there was a rowan tree. Bigger than any other rowan that I’d ever seen, with its sweeping canopy and its vast network of branches. But my eyes weren’t on the tree. No, it was on the man below it.

He sat on a wheelchair, a small smile on his face as he stared at the falling leaves. He held a cup of warm schaa in his stony hands. A thin layer of shriveled, brown moss sat on his head, and deep, crag-like wrinkles lined his aged face. He wore spectacles now. Small, circular lenses on a delicate frame. His clothes were loose and comfortable, and there were a few nuts and bolts scattered over the grass around him.

I stepped closer. I saw his face.

The old man poked at a metal puzzle on his lap, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. It was a familiar look of focus. And seeing it now, on a face I hardly recognized, so old, so taken by time…

I felt hot tears roll down my face as all the last months caught up to me.

I was here. I was home.

And nobody remembered me. I was twenty-one years late.

The old man looked up from his puzzle, noticing me for the first time. His eyes didn’t recognize me, but still, he smiled. Father looked at me with his kind eyes.

“Why are you crying, son?”