The next morning, at a security checkpoint of John F. Kennedy International Airport.

  An oval-shaped image popped up on the screening monitor when Luther’s suitcase passed through the scanner. When the security staff opened it for inspection, he raised his eyebrows to find a large gray egg inside.

  “Oh, that’s a… mutated ostrich egg. It’s a health tonic for my grandma.” Aaron asked. “I already Googled, animal eggs are allowed, right?”

  “That’s correct,” the young staff member replied, though with a puzzled expression. “But… an ostrich egg as a health tonic for an old lady?”

  “Yeah, it’s for calcium supplementation.” Aaron tried to keep a straight face.

  Once they were through security, he couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

  “When did you even put that in your suitcase?” he asked Luther.

  “This morning. Home alone. It might … get lonely,” Luther explained, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

  “Hahahaha! What do you mean an egg can feel lonely? You’re such a silly kid,” Acher cackled.

  “Don’t tease him,” Aaron said, stepping in. “Luther meant well.”

  Acher gave a low, dismissive huff.

  “What? So I’m the bad guy now?”

  “Oh, please, I didn’t mean it at all,” Aaron protested.

  “Acher is good. Not bad,” Luther said.

  “Hahahaha, I’m just messing with you kids,” Acher said with clear amusement. “But honestly, calling me the bad guy wouldn’t be wrong. Back in the old days, children who heard my name wouldn’t even dare cry out loud.”

  “Then who exactly are you?” Aaron asked.

  Luther leaned in, paying close attention.

  “That’s a secret.”

  “…”

  Once on the plane, Aaron lifted his suitcase into the overhead compartment and then pointed toward two seats closer to the front.

  “Here’s our spot. You can have the window seat, it’s great for watching the view when we take off.”

  Their seats were spacious with plenty of legroom to stretch out. Luther sat down and peered out the window.

  Half an hour later, the plane began to move, gathering speed before lifting off into the sky.

  “It’s incredible that something so massive and made of metal can fly without a single spell. Humans these days are fascinating,” Acher observed. “The feeling is very different from flying by magic, not as free, but it has its own kind of appeal.”

  “That’s the result of countless people’s hard work and ingenuity,” Aaron replied.

  He accepted three cups of orange juice from the flight attendant, set them on the tray table, and then began pulling snacks out of his backpack one after another. Even the attendant pushing the food cart down the aisle gave him a surprised glance. No wonder he’d turned down her offer for in-flight food earlier.

  “What do you want, Luther? Mr. Acher? Potato chips? Chocolate? Raisins?” Aaron asked.

  For a flight that was just over an hour long, it looked like Aaron had brought half a snack bar with him.

  “It’d be so much fun if we could just fly from New York to Boston ourselves. But it’s quite far, and we’re also too slow,” he said, chewing a piece of chocolate.

  Luther looked at him, and the corner of his mouth curved up.

  “Veil of Lies.”

  Aaron felt something trying to influence him. His voice was filled with curiosity as he asked:

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t resist,” Luther said. “Veil of Lies.”

  This time, Aaron let the magic wash over him. Gradually, the airplane cabin and all the passengers began to turn transparent, fading away until they were replaced by an open sky of bright blue, dotted with white clouds.

  When Aaron looked down, he saw that the three of them were now seated on the back of a gigantic creature.

  It was covered in scales of black streaked with crimson, and it had two enormous bat-like wings that looked strong enough to cleave the air. Its tail was long and lined with sharp spines, its head covered with short horns, and its golden slit-pupil eyes radiated a presence that was both fierce and majestic.

  “Pyrathrax!!!” Aaron shouted at the top of his lungs.

  Luther leaned over to clap a hand over his mouth. Around them, nearby passengers turned to stare, some with irritation, others in surprise, and a few with open curiosity.

  Acher chuckled.

  “You kids and your little tricks.”

  “It’s just an illusion,” Luther whispered.

  “Really? That’s amazing!” Aaron looked around, beaming. “Though … it feels like not everything here is an illusion. The blue sky, the white clouds, even the ground far below, they’re all real, right? It’s like an augmented reality experience.”

  He called out in a low voice, grinning:

  “Pyrathrax, take us to Boston!”

  …

  After arriving at Boston Logan International Airport, the three of them checked into the hotel first. Once the room was settled, they had lunch, freshened up with a good wash, and took a nap. It wasn’t until well past noon that they finally headed to Mariana Market.

  Luther walked along Newbury Street, his eyes roaming over the surroundings with interest. The street was bustling with people. On both sides stood rows of shops, restaurants, and hotels.

  “This is one of the busiest streets in all of the city,” Aaron said. “I’ve been to Boston a few times before and have walked along this street twice, but I never once imagined there was a hidden magical market here. It’s just unbelievable.”

  “Let’s see… Mariana Market is located in the Dark Side,” he murmured as he read Martin’s message again. “To get there, we just have to stand at any bus stop, red light, or intersection, then turn to face the eight o’clock direction and say the word ‘Eiselthon.’”

  “Eiselthon!”

  “Eiselthon!”

  The moment the incantation was spoken, a wave of magic swept over them. In an instant, the two boys and the raven vanished from where they stood. The people around them carried on walking and chatting, unaware that anything unusual had just happened.

  The scenery around Luther and Aaron shifted. The lively modern street of a moment ago faded away, replaced by … another lively street that looked just as similar.

  At first glance, the place resembled a larger, more expansive copy of Newbury Street, full of glass-fronted stores and the bright lights typical of a twenty-first-century city. But unlike the real world, its left side unfolded into a stunning white-sand beach, the sound of waves lapping rhythmically against the shore.

  Scattered among the modern architecture were old-style buildings with domes, stone columns, and intricate carvings and statues.

  The whole street felt like a weave of two eras, bright, sharp-edged, and modern in one breath, yet solemn and heavy with history in the next.

  Along the beachfront stood dozens of massive stone pillars. Each one rose about fifty feet high, wide enough for three people to wrap their arms around, and every column was topped with a statue, a different figure for each one: an archer, an eagle, a dragon, a seashell …

  Occasionally, these statues shifted, bending down as if to study the crowds below with a searching gaze.

  The streets teemed with pedestrians. Many of them wore modern clothing like the two boys, but a noticeable number sported strange attire: cloaks with pointed hats, suits of metal armor, and even some wrapped in nothing more than a white chiton.

  Aaron nudged Luther, tilting his head toward a certain direction.

  “Look at that guy’s pants.”

  Luther glanced over and spotted a young man walking hand in hand with a girl further down the street. From behind the man’s waist sprouted a silver-gray tail that swished back and forth in a cheerful way.

  “A … dog man?” Luther’s eyes widened a little bit.

  “Must be a werewolf, I mean, a wolf beastkin, but that tail looks more like a husky’s,” Aaron muttered under his breath.

  While the two were still taking in their surroundings, a man approached them. He wore a thigh-length coat with short sleeves trimmed in silver and fastened with spinning rune clasps. His trousers were made of the same soft tactical fabric in the same shade, and he wore a black leather belt at his waist. Hanging from his side was a wooden baton with a silver handle.

  “Hi, boys. Where are you from? Can I see your ID?” the man asked.

  To him, these two kids looked quite suspicious. Sure, teenagers these days can be a little odd, but the way these two kept gawking at everything made them stand out like sore thumbs in the crowd.

  Aaron and Luther froze.

  “!!!”

  They glanced at each other. Neither of them had any ID, and Aaron was sure the man wasn’t talking about a normal ID.

  “Who are you?” Aaron asked.

  “Cassor Drenwald, public order officer of Mariana Market,” the man said, pulling a card from his pocket and holding it up for them to see.

  “Ah …” Aaron fished his wallet out and pretended to search through it. “… I think I might’ve left mine at home.”

  He forced the politest smile he could manage.

  Cassor narrowed his eyes.

  “What are your names? Where do you live? What are your parents’ names?” he asked in rapid succession.

  “Uh … um …” Aaron stammered.

  From Luther’s shoulder, Acher let out a sigh.

  “Boys, when you arrive in a new place, the first thing you should do is try to blend in with the locals. Being too different is a form of standing out. Luther, strengthen the cloak a bit more,” he said.

  Luther adjusted the cloak of ambiguity, making it a touch stronger, and Cassor’s expression eased a little bit.

  Acher flapped his wings and flew over to perch on his shoulder.

  “Hey, Cassor. Been a while, hasn’t it? These kids are my nephews. They just awakened recently, and this is their first time visiting a magical hub, so they’re feeling a little out of place,” he said.