Even after he finally found it, the feelings lingered, yet he always came back to this place of origin, unable to stay away.
He trod the familiar path inside, pushing the heavy metal doors aside and revealing the burnished gold interior of the Nexus building lobby. Black stone lined the floor, making his steps echo under the high ceiling. Yellow light beamed down on him from old oil sconces that had been repurposed into electricity at the turn of the century. A double staircase with wrought iron banisters wrapped around both right and left, offering pathways Fix knew by heart.
The overwhelming weight of magic settled over him, thick and heavy like a blanket. Unlike in the city where things were dispersed and saturated between so many regular people, in here it was only casters and cursebreakers.
He signed in at the large, half-oval desk centered between the two staircases. Multiple Nexus employees sat there, doing administrative tasks and answering phone calls while casual magical tasks flowed around them without notice. They were dressed in black and gold, the Nexus logo on their breast pockets—the letter N in thick cursive on a background of the same cogsthat could be seen around the facility, symbolizing a part of a bigger whole.
It was his earliest memory, that logo. Not a face. Not a name. Just that.
He was given a visitor’s badge and then ushered in without much fanfare, and his feet led him without permission to the left. He leaned against the doorframe and stared down the long hallway leading into the residential area of Nexus. The place where cursebreakers too young to start training lived.
Home.
Or at least the only version of home they all knew.
Cursebreakers’ existences were deemed sad by some, but Fix found it hard to comprehend anything different from the life he knew and the walls that had cradled him. Their world was created the way it was, and Fix had never once thought about changing it.
Fix, like all the others, had been born with a cursemark on him. As such, his real family had had to say goodbye to him before he ever got to go home with them.
Nexus employed caretakers. People who raised little cursebreaker babies until they were old enough to enter training. Once in training, they got too busy to think of just how different their upbringing was from everyone else’s.
They had classes to attend, specialities to figure out, and teams to match with. Fix did it all. Even if it did take him longer than it should have.
“The famous Fix,” someone said from behind him. Fix turned around, coming face-to-face with a man maybe Hart’s age, so a few years younger than himself.
He was wearing the standard Nexus instructor uniform of brown leather pants and a matching long coat with a pair of black gloves and boots. Leather just took curse backfire better,so it was good protection while teaching younger cursebreakers to do their jobs.
“Fix is right,” he said with a smile, extending a hand toward the man. “I don’t know about famous.”
“Tarquin,” the man said. “But Quin will suffice.”
“Quin it is.” Fix looked the man over once again. There was a stiffness to his posture, a regality to it that reminded Fix of Hart, but was still different in a lot of ways. Hart’s was a front. A facade he took on to present himself to the world the way he wanted. Quin wore his like a badge of honor, stiff and serious with none of the quirky charm or charisma Hart naturally owned.
“You’re new?” Fix asked.
Quin shook his head. “I have been teaching here for some time now. But I came on board after you had been gone for a while. So yes, I assume in that way I am new.”
“Well, welcome to Nexus. Seeing how young you look, I can only assume you’re an incredible caster to be an instructor here.”
“Level five as of last testing.”
Being the regulatory body for magic, it was impossible for any standard level one or two caster to get a job at Nexus. They sourced from those who tested at the highest level in all magical schools, and even then it was cutthroat as Fix understood it.
Those who didn’t make it went on to regular career paths or lower-level casting jobs that had to report to Nexus and its various branches.
“Impressive.” Fix whistled. “And what’s your area of expertise?”
Quin broke eye contact for a split second before meeting Fix’s gaze again. “Objects.”
“Ah. Midas seems to be collecting the powerful ones.”
Quin smiled tightly at the small talk. “I apologize, but I have a class to teach presently, and I know you’re here to teach too.Would you mind if I picked your brain about a particular matter of interest sometime?”
“Business related?” Fix asked. Quin nodded, his face outwardly calm but his body telling a different story entirely. Shifty. Antsy. It was strange, yet Fix still reached into his pocket and pulled his business card out of his wallet. “Just give me a call whenever.”
Quin took it between two ringed fingers. There was an inscription on one of them that Fix wasn’t able to make out. “If you don’t mind, could we do this in person?”
Fix frowned at the intense stare, but shrugged it off. “Works for me. If you drop by the office we can chat there. Just maybe call or text to see if I’m in. I don’t keep regular hours, as you probably know.”
