Rhys led the way, Ms. Quill trailing in his wake. The sun, now perched high in the sky, cast its unrelenting heat upon them. Glancing sideways at Ms. Quill, he observed her outfit—a flowy, casual dress adorned with a delicate floral pattern. An ideal choice for the weather, he noted. In contrast, he wore a slightly more formal red overcoat, a decision rooted in the hope of fitting in better as a newcomer. Regret prickled at him now, like a thorn in his side. The coat's vibrant hue had done nothing to aid in blending into town as he’d hoped. Worse still, the material clung to his skin, ensnaring the sun's heat and transforming the attire into an insufferable cocoon. A fervent wish to shed the layer gnawed at him, but the action would require a movement of his injured shoulder. Granted, it was a small wound, but its throbbing intensity synchronized with each of his steps. The bleeding had ceased, thanks to a clot, but he remained cautious not to reopen the injury.

He redirected his attention to Ms. Quill as she not-so-nimbly hopped onto another rooftop. Deciding to break the silence that had descended between them, Rhys spoke. "What's your name, Ms. Quill?"

"Are you asking for my first name?" She pivoted, her expression tinged with surprise. A realization washed over him, that perhaps this inquiry breached some formal etiquette he was oblivious to.

Should he have introduced himself first? The thought flitted through his mind. "Um… my name is Rhys Va—," he stammered, tugging at his sleeve, "Bird."

The corners of her lips curved, a knowing grin that was unmistakable. "Rhys... VaBird?" Her tone painted his attempt at deception in full view. "Mr. VaBird, you're a terrible liar."

Rhys’s face bloomed red. "Alright, my family name is Vanguard."

"Rhys Vanguard," she echoed, the words dancing off her tongue. "Yes, that name suits you much better than Bird."

"Does it?" The question left his lips almost reflexively.

She shook her head, the faintest blush coloring her cheeks. "Don't worry about it."

But now he was curious, and for some reason conversation seemed to flow much easier with Ms. Quill than most people he attempted to talk to. He was eager to let that continue. “Why does Vanguard suit me better?”

“Oh nothing. It's just… uh, well more piratey.”

That stopped him short. Piratey? What did that mean?

“You look like a pirate character I once read about. He had a coat just like yours.”

“I see.” Rhys thought about the pirates he’d heard about. The ones who pillaged the East Sea. Their attire was nothing like his own, often they preferred darker blacks and sickly greens, although he conceded, their colors varied greatly depending on which group they were affiliated with. Still, he’d never seen a pirate wear red, a color associated almost exclusively with the Realm Guard.

A silence descended between them. Eventually, it was Ms. Quill who broke it, extending a hand in a gesture of camaraderie which he only hesitated a second before taking. "Hi, Rhys. I'm Penelope."

“Hi, Penelope. I’m Rhys,” he paused, inwardly cringing, “which I’ve already said.”

Penelope laughed, a light, judgment-free noise, that put him at ease. She looked towards him again. For as long as they’d been walking, she’d been not-so-subtly stealing glances at his shoulder, though she hadn’t said anything about it yet. “Your shoulder looks really bad… maybe you should get it patched up?”

Rhys nodded. “We’re almost there. The cut will heal when we arrive at the Luminary.”

Penelope frowned, a crease forming between her brows. Sending a confused look in his direction, she shook her head. “A Luminary?” she asked. “There’s nothing like that around here.”

Rhys felt a small smile crease his lips, but he revealed nothing. He’d seen the confusion on her face when those attackers had disappeared in the marketplace. That along with the complete lack of magic in this town made it abundantly clear no one in Willowbrook was aware of its existence. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction to the Luminary.

“Wait.” Penelope looked around. “Do you mean Inkwell’s? The bookstore? It’s right down that path.”

Rhys turned in the direction she pointed where an old paved road branched off of the one they were following. That was indeed the direction they needed to be headed. He was glad Penelope had pointed it out, or he would have missed it. “Is that what they call the building?” he asked.

“It shut down years ago. No one goes there anymore.”

“Actually, someone definitely does. When I came through the portal this morning some items looked as if they had been recently moved.” Rhys supplied. Moving to the edge of the roof to scale down the building, he beckoned her over.

Penelope didn’t move. “Did you say portal?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Penelope was now giving him a look that all but told him she thought him insane.

“Look. It’s not going to make any sense till I show you.” Rhys stated, but Penelope still looked hesitant. “Do you want to know where the men in the marketplace went?” he asked. She still didn’t move, but her internal conflict was evident in her eyes. Penelope, it seemed, was an incredibly curious woman, and he knew exactly what to say to convince her to follow him. “I can explain everything about your mother, but I need to address this wound first.” he said.

That finally got her to come closer. “There isn’t anything medicinal at Inkwell’s, it's a bookstore. And an old one at that.” she said.

“I know,” Rhys responded. “We aren’t going to Inkwell’s. We are going through it.”

“The bookstore is the portal?” she said skeptically, quirking an eyebrow.

Rhys nodded, eliciting a sigh of resignation from Penelope. However, she did follow him, dangling her legs over the edge of the building as he explained how to climb down it.

Scaling down a building proved to be significantly harder than going up, but eventually, they did accomplish their descent. The moment Penelope’s feet touched the ground Rhys saw her visibly slump with relief. He gave her a minute to catch her breath before they crossed the street and made their way to the bookstore. 

Most of the properties in this part of town looked to be residential. Now, well into the day, most townspeople were out and about, leaving the streets empty, much to Rhys’s relief.

When they arrived at the bookstore Penelope turned to him, expectantly. He looked up and noticed a rusty sign above the main entrance that did indeed confirm the name to be ‘Inkwell’s’. Climbing the porch, Penelope knocked on the old, battered door. “This thing looks like it would come crashing down if you run into it. Is that what you meant by going through the bookstore?” Penelope joked.

Surprising himself, Rhys snickered at the comment. “That isn’t precisely what I had in mind,” he retorted. Taking the lead, he climbed the porch and opened the door. The bookstore looked just as he’d left it. Rays of light streamed in through the broken windows casting scary shadows across the room. While there were shelves and shelves of books, Rhys noticed Penelope’s gaze on the one shelf that was dusted and clean. “See, someone has been here recently.”

Penelope didn’t look surprised. Instead, her gaze traveled to the one chair in the room. It was sturdy and built of wood, and, like the shelf, dust-free. On it was draped a thin cardigan with a pattern that looked suspiciously similar to the embroidery on Penelope’s dress. “So it was you who visited?” Rhys asked.

Penelope’s lips pressed in a thin line. “I sometimes come here to pick out books to read.” she replied, her tone suddenly defensive. Before Rhys could decipher the shift, Penelope walked over to the chair, plucked up the cardigan, and fitted it on her shoulders without putting her arms through. 

“So… what are we doing here?”

Ahh, right. Wordlessly, Rhys led the way into a second, much darker room. Penelope followed, watching as Rhys felt along the wall for a door. Upon locating the knob, he turned it, letting the door swing open.

“Is that a closet?” Penelope asked from somewhere behind him.

“Not exactly,” Rhys answered, gesturing for her to walk through the door. 

After a moment of hesitancy, Penelope followed, though only after he 

stepped through first.

Rhys reached for the handle of the closet, closing the door firmly and trapping the both of them in a dark blanket that swallowed them. “Wait! What are you—,” Penelope’s voice cut off and Rhys felt a zing shot up his spine. He knew she’d felt it too.

“What was… what was that?” Penelope asked. Already, she was reaching for the handle.

Rhys let her take it, and as the door swung open, he greeted the sight of the Luminary, a room entirely different from the one they'd just left. He stepped out of the closet, looking back to see a slack-jawed Penelope staring through the doorway.

“Wha— How…. huh?!” she spluttered.