Taking the city in, I noticed that while it was much smaller than Chicago’s 228 square miles, it was larger than expected–perhaps the size of St. Louis. Bright light filtered down from overhead, cast down by rows and rows of circular skylight-like lights. The city boasted a few brilliantly shining skyscrapers that sparkled proudly in the artificial(?) sunlight, reflecting off the polished limestone ceiling arching overhead. Green terraces filled to the brim with trees and plants sloped out from the polished stone walls. Waterfalls cascaded down from the walls and in between levels into a river through the city, the scene reminiscent of descriptions of Babylon.
The stone street beneath my feet seamlessly met the polished stone buildings around me. A few scattered buildings wore different pained colors, though it was difficult to tell if they, too, were carved from stone.
Gardens and streams lined the people-filled sidewalks and mostly empty streets, mirroring the other side of the road. The boat-filled streams sat on either side of the street and were bordered on both sides by the gardens. The stream on my right flowed in the same direction we were walking, and the one on my left flowing in the opposite direction. The gardens were brimming with trees, blooming flowers, and other greenery, and a constant breeze carried a pleasant flowery scent. Arched bridges lifted over the gardens and streams, providing access to the buildings cut off from the street. The water dipped below the roads in a few places, allowing unimpeded access for boat riders and walkers alike.
Cove let me drink the city in, a proud smile on his face. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
My head snapped back forward to look at him, and I met his smile with an excited one of my own. “It’s the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen,” I admitted unabashedly, “Are there cities like this everywhere?”
He started walking purposefully down the sidewalks, passing underneath carved light posts. I followed.
He shook his head, his hair tossed by the gentle warm breeze. “No. This is by far the largest one in America and where most American mages end up. Mages living elsewhere can use gates to get here instantly, and there aren’t enough of us to justify building places like this everywhere. There are a few smaller towns around the country, though not all are tucked away underground.”
“What about the rest of the world?”
He was silent for a few seconds, considering. “There’s plenty. But are they like this? No. Ventosus is the most modern, constructed around the same time as Chicago was to contain the booming population. Ventosus is also one of the largest mage cities, though it hardly holds a candle to the much larger and much, much, much older cities such as Agartha and Shambhala.”
He craned his neck to look at me, walking slightly behind him, and said, “Weeks wouldn’t be enough time to describe them, so I’ll leave the stories of those cities for you to discover later. We have rooms and rooms of their history alone in the library.”
I vowed right then and there to spend as much time possible in the library, to absorb as much of this new world as possible. I drifted closer to a building on my right, trailing my fingers over the cool stone. “Is the entire city carved like this?”
“It’s made of stone, if that’s what you’re asking. Not all of it was carved, though.”
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“What are the lights overhead? I would have said skylights, but we must be deep underground.”
“Ah, those are sun tunnels. As you might guess by the name, they’re tunnels going all the way up to the surface that reflects the sunlight down. We use similar tunnels to bring the fresh air you’re breathing down here.
Impressive. Ani, trotting by my feet, seemed to be awed as well. His tail and ears flicked excitedly, his nose scrunching like a bunny as he sniffed the fragrant air and plants.
“And the water? Is it from underground streams, the lake, or somewhere else?”
“The water you see before you are diverted from an underground river flowing from Lake Michigan. It also sources most of our drinking and daily use water. Some places get hot bath water from a local hot spring further underground.”
I whistled.
He continued explaining some things as we walked, clarifying that the city was connected to the internet and that about a third of the residents here were originally from above ground, like me. Since they were connected to the modern world, most of the younger people wore modern clothes, though some of the older population preferred ancient, Roman-style togas and robes. Whispering not to be overheard, he further clarified, “Some of the more powerful mages like to pretend they’re actually from that era. It’s not worth it to call them out on their BS.”
I nearly tripped over my feet. “Why would they even bother? Can mages live that long?”
Could I?
Pulling back to take a more casual turn, he said, “If they’re powerful enough, I suppose. My father, for example, was born in England in the 1320s.”
“You’re kidding.”
With a wry smile, he said, “Most mages only live a decade or so longer than normal people. The most powerful mages are usually born and live in older cities I mentioned, such as Agartha. Supposedly, some of them have lived thousands of years. They rarely ever let outsiders visit, though, so verifying the rumors is difficult.”
“Wow,” was all I said. It was all I could say. The prospect of such long-lived people was absolutely mind-boggling.
Struck by a realization, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Wait, then, how old are you?”
“27.”
I pressed a hand to my chest, relieved. He was younger than me. Cove laughed at my expression.
“So your father was really born in the 1320s?”
“Yup,” He said, popping the p. “He’s not sure about the year.”
A little disturbed, I asked, “How old was your mother?!”
He laughed again with a bitter edge. “She was older than Dad. Supposedly one of the most powerful mages ever.”
“...Was?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
On that note, the conversation died, a somber mood overcasting the beautiful scenery. He led me through the streets and up a couple of steps to the door of an unassuming building before ringing a doorbell on the side of the stone door.
The lock clicked, and the door swung open to reveal a woman who appeared to be around our age but was dressed in a light pink toga, the type Cove’d mentioned was popular with the elderly. A sky blue belt was tied around her waist, bringing out the bright blue of her eyes, which contrasted prettily with her silver hair and clothes.
“Ah, Cove!” She exclaimed, a smile adorning her face. “It’s been a while! Have you come to visit?” She spoke with a slight southern accent, the kind you could sometimes find in rural areas in the Midwest.
“Sorry, Rose, not today. I know the registration bureau is usually closed on Mondays, but could you do me a favor and get Hayden here tested and registered?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at me, and when she followed it to my face, I smiled and waved. Ani sat down at my feet and gave a greeting of his own, a loud, pitiful meow that made her smile stretch across her face.
She waved back before looking back at Cove and saying,” I wouldn’t for anyone but you and your daddy. She reached up to pat his cheek gently as an old lady might. But since you asked nicely, we’ll go right ahead. Wait here while I grab my things.”
She vanished up the carpet-covered stone stairs, walking past a beautiful landscape painting embedded in an ornate gold frame. A simple dining room on the right side of the stairs, with the kitchen visible through the doors. The layout was a dated, closed floor plan, but the place was decorated with today's neutral browns and grays. The decorative shelves of the dining room were carved in stunning detail from the wall, and the chairs and other furniture were stained dark and built with solid and sturdy-looking wood.
She strode back down the stairs, a pink and blue beaded chain containing a couple of keys now clasped adorning her neck.
“Let’s go."