TUW 1: Bonds in the Dark

9 | Illusions

When none of her companions offered any brilliant ideas on how to go around this literal barricade, she chewed on her lip. She was about to suggest they look at the map again, to see if there were any parallel ways in, when her periphery caught the boulder's surface and stayed there. Something about her instincts—they weren't meant to be ignored.

Slowly, she reached up, her fingers hovering near the slab of rock. "Elred? What's wrong?" Argyll's concerned voice rang in her ears.

"Did you say the fluctuations are in the Detached Region?" she asked aloud. It was just a way to buy time as she drew closer and examined the slab further. One of her companions blabbed about things she already knew, making it harder to tune out and help them feel important to the mission. Her eyes traced the surface. She had seen countless illusions in place. Made enough of them too. She would know one when she saw it.

To confirm her suspicions, she forced her senses to lower into the trail dimension. The explosion of color and magic almost sent her mind adrift. This trail. This...power. She had spent enough time around those things to know which ones were their doing and which were not.

"A throne," the words bled out of her lips along with a bemused breath. "What's a throne doing in this place?"

"Are you saying something?" Korda asked, stopping the Entobern fairy in his explanation. "What did you find?"

Elred chuckled, finally understanding it. The detached region didn't contain a mere collection of displaced people who learned to camouflage. They had a throne, which could only mean...

There's an entire race of fairies in it. And if they wanted to stay hidden, with a throne capable of creating impenetrable illusions, it's better to not barge in without thought. She turned to her companions. "We'll find another way," she decided. Despite not being the most credible leader of a group, much less an entire army, after her speech, she found others looking to her for decisions more and more. Annoying, but she'd be able to live with it.

Without another word, they traced their steps away from the fake stone wall and followed Argyll's map to a parallel road. There were many charted tunnels leading to the Detached Region, but with the throne's power, it's expected they're going to be blocked. A bend showed itself and they tackled it. According to the map, another supposed entrance would be at the end.

Elred gritted her teeth, keeping her attention on bringing one foot in front of the other. After some time, the prickles against her skin were nigh intolerable. She rubbed her hands against her forearms. Cold. It was cold, as if she was back in Abshire during the rage of winter.

"Am I breaking into a fever or has the air gone colder?" she asked her companions.

Argyll started sniffing when just a few minutes ago, he was fine. When Elred glanced at him, he shook his head. "Sorry, I'm not very good with the cold," he said. "Part of the reason I left Carleon."

If he disliked the fresh mountain air in the banshee territory, he wouldn't survive Abshire. Elred exhaled. Her breath crystalized in front of her. What the—

"Multiple people coming," the renegade called. "I can hear them."

Elred and the others crouched into a stance. She summoned her magic to the surface, relishing in the comfort of the soft warmth it gave her to fight against the cold. "How many?"

The renegade strained her head to the side, muttering under her breath. Then, her features scrunched in confusion. "I don't know," she cursed. "Too many for us."

"Let's hope they're friendly, then," Elred said.

They dared not take another step forward. Instead, they stood. And waited.