in the streets of dorburn

1.

JEM HAWTHORNE WAS ALWAYS GOOD AT CREATING ILLUSIONS.

He made his first rōk doing card tricks in front of Cosimo Museum, the heart of Dorburn, the city of fog. The cards he dealt were like an extension of his hands; the stiff material bending to his every whim. The resounding, slap sound they made on his crooked, cardboard table, enthralled the patrons that had passed him, effectively falling for his trap.

For you see, while Jem was enticing the on lookers with a game of "is this your card," he was also robbing them blind. Unbeknownst to the gullible people in front of his table, smoke was slithering out from behind him, and into the pockets and purses of the wealthy Dorburn tourists.

He remembered how he felt when he ran his finger over the large, blue tinted coin; the grooves of the museum, smelted into the coin, brought a feeling Jem had never felt before: joy. Which is how he felt again when he stood in front of the same museum, many years later.

Walking up the lengthy steps of the now abandoned museum, his eyes focused in front of him, a jaunty skip in his step. Jem could feel himself getting giddy with excitement. This museum was rumored to house more than just art. Stories were told about this place: the richest of the rich would come here to show off what makes them special. Some could turn into animals or even other people. Some could make the elements do whatever they wanted. And some, were so extraordinary, that you didn't even know the depth of what they could do. But they're all gone now. Well, almost all gone.

Jem crouched until he was eye level with the keyhole of the Cosimo. Exhaling, dark smoke billowed, from his gloved finger tip, escaping into the keyhole until there was a resounding click, and the large, heavy door creaked open slightly, as Jem slipped inside.

Unsurprisingly, the air inside was stale and dusty; dust particles were floating slowly in the moonlight that streamed in from the ceiling window. Jem didn't bother shutting the door behind him, the museum not being visited for many years, no one was going to find him in here.

His footsteps echoed on the floor, as he leisurely traipsed through the museum, if he could even call it that. There were a few paintings and statues left with cloth hanging over them, but for the most part, the place was deserted of any art. But that's what they want you to think.

According to one of his many of his sources, Jem had managed to get a tip of a magical item that was left in this museum. Now as magic has dwindled in appearance over the last few decades, Jem was skeptical, of course, but he could never give up a chance to have an adventure. Worst that could happen, is that he doesn't find anything.

Twisting the sliver ring on his left hand, a skull embossed on the flat top, he made his way to the middle of the museum, where the exhibit hall for their old King was placed. This room was the same as the rest: a few paintings hung haphazardly on the wall with cloth covering them, and a few statues stood and a few of them were even still intact. The only difference in this room than the others was the lone, inscribed bench that sat in the middle of the room. Walking over to it, Jem traced the dust on the surface of the bench, rubbing his fingers together before taking a seat.

The thing that was special about this room wasn't the various paintings depicting the King's accomplishments, or the statues that were made in his image for his many years in service. The most valuable piece in this room, was the bench that Jem was sitting on. Not many people knew that this bench held many secrets of the King's reign. Etched into the smooth, white marble, were little scenes that, at first glance, seem like candid moment's in the King's life, but looking closer, you can see him looking at a woman who isn't his wife, facing away from explicit acts of prejudice, and signing document's that are not public knowledge. This bench signified what Dorburn was really like: a place for liars to lie their way to the top.

Letting his smoke roam free, Jem searched the bench for any Reloquiae he could find. Stories, that could be only heard from passerby on the street relaying what they previously heard, told of the Reliquiae; magical artifacts left behind from the Praeteritus, a time long forgotten. Having one is rumored to bring riches, foretold secrets, and longevity, but for Jem, he would be lucky if it paid for his next meal. And when he heard a click, he figured he might just be able to.

Feeling under the ledge of the bench, he felt where the panel had been released, and reached in, feeling the smooth, circular object. Pulling it out, it instantly blinded him, the reflective piece catching the reflection of the moonlight. Turning away from the window and holding it in front of him, in his hand was a monocle. Scrunching his dark eyebrows together, he turned it over in his hand, searching for something that could prove it was magical. But as he looked at the black rimmed monocle, with a broken and rusted chain hanging from it, he let out a long sigh, deciding there was nothing special about it, definitely nothing magical. Deducing that the piece was a special item of the previous King, he pocketed it anyway, adding it to a long collection of found and abandoned knickknacks he has found in this city.

"Oh, little Magpie, what have you collected now?" said a voice eerily close to his ear, barely above a whisper. Without moving, aside from the small smile that has found a way onto his face, Jem addressed the mysterious voice in the dark.

"Why? Was it more your style?" Taking the monocle out of his pocket he held it out to the air and it was promptly yanked from his grip. His amethyst eyes moved over to the girl who landed on the bench next to him. He saw Opal Zaldari look over the object quizzically before plopping it back into Jem's hand.

"Was this the Reliquiae that you heard about?" Opal said.

Jem sighed. "Maybe but, if it was, it isn't one anymore. I don't feel any traces of magic from it. But, it will be a nice addition to my ever growing collection of Dorburn artifacts."

Jem let out an empty chuckle as he stood from the bench. He knows that he shouldn't feel too disappointed - leads don't always work out - but he had this feeling that this time would work out. Sighing and stretching his limbs, he turned his gaze back to Opal as she was tracing the carvings on the bench. To Jem, she almost looked sad. No, that wasn't the right word. It was more like, longing.

"Let's get out of here. I don't want anyone to find us in here." Jem said, as he walked out of the room.

Jem heard Opal walking close to him as they walked out of the abandoned museum, not bothering to close the door after them. They walked silently down the streets of Dorburn, not realizing the bench they thought had no significance, had now vanished and a bird with four, red eyes, was watching their every move.