Light poured from the pages of the fey book, backlighting the text. Oz squinted, a little uncomfortable. Does this thing have a dark mode? No? Unfortunate.

The text twisted away, written in the fey text. Oz began to pull up his dictionary, pressing his lips together. I’m going to be at this all day. Hopefully Fflyn and Aisling don’t die while I’m busy.

The page glowed brighter. Oz’s eyes blurred, and the text flowed directly into his mind. The fey script on the page remained twisted and unreadable, but he understood its meaning nonetheless, as if it was written in his language.

A flicker of surprise passed through Oz. This isn’t Ossian’s knowledge. This is a feature of this book itself, like the illusion that played in one of the previous fey books.

And thank goodness. I don’t think I have hours to puzzle out what’s going on in this book, going back and forth between the dictionary, before whatever Fflyn, Aisling, and I are wandering through closes in around us in a dangerous way.

He read on, surging through the text. A story unwound, a circuitous tale of a fey wandering through Feyrie, visiting all the various fey cities in all their configurations. Many mentions of the cities being beneath hills or hidden under illusions appeared throughout the text, but no details on how they worked or what to look for came up. Wrinkling his nose, Oz began to skim, reading even faster. Come on. Give me something. You’ve got to realize that there’s someone out there who wants to know more about these things. Please. I’m begging you.

Abruptly, the text before his eyes shimmered. The pages flew by of their own volition, flipping through to the back quarter of the book. Slower and slower they flickered, until they landed open on a page full of tight, narrow handwritten text. Addendum, the title at the top of the page read.

It has come to my attention that some humans have acquired copies of my tour guide of Feyrie. As you humans—and I’m assuming that the reader is a human, at this point, because there’s no reason for a fey to read this portion—as you humans are dull-minded and unimaginative creatures, without even the basic common sense every fey child is born with—

Oz rolled his eyes. Right. Cultural differences. I got it. He skipped ahead.

The Underhill communities are the fey’s ultimate retreat, our ultimate feat. Although humans are unimaginative and unbearably dull creatures, you, too, can nonetheless accomplish a similar feat. It is the most simple of illusions. Simply blur the outside creature’s perception, so that time passes quickly for the creature, and then the same affect is achieved. They perceive walking around a small space, then entering a large one, while the actual size remains precisely the same.

Oz frowned. That doesn’t sound right.

The passage continued. This is only the method for you pathetic humans. A true Underhill is an intricate spatial working, the likes of which humans struggle to so much as comprehend. Your high-tier mages stand a chance of creating a similar space, but I recommend instead seeking out abandoned Underhills. The fey have retreated from the majority of the human world, which means abandoned settlements spot your world’s boring geography. If you locate an abandoned Underhill, rejoice in your fortune, and claim your betters’ workings as your own! It’s all you hideous creatures know how to do, after all.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Taking a deep breath, Oz sat back. Damn, that fey did not like humans.

An abandoned Underhill. I wonder if that’s what the village is? But how would I tell, one way or another? He thought for a moment, then looked at the book. He grinned. Isn’t it obvious? I should look for situational magic, fey language, any kind of leftover artifacts.

Though, I wonder. Was the original village built on the ruins of an Underhill? Or did the mages move the city into the fey space?

Either way could make sense. Whether the village was built here, and then used by the mages for its convenience, or whether the mages dragged the village here when they wanted to use it—either makes sense.

He bit his lip, thinking back. Is that cold I felt from stepping over the threshold of an Underhill? Fey magic typically feels warm, though. Organic. Real. That chill was not of this world. Strange. Unnatural. Even if the space is an abandoned Underhill, something else is going on here.

Oz pressed a hand on the book, scanning it into his mental space—though I’m not sure that I’ll be able to read the scan later, without the auto-translation of the book itself active—and stood. Okay. Back to the real world. Er. Back to Fflyn, anyways.

He nodded at Fenrir as he set the book back on the shelf. I can’t read it upstairs, anyways. Might as well leave it down here. “Thank you.”

“Finally, some gratitude,” Fenrir muttered, though he didn’t seem at all upset.

Back up to the nook. Oz settled in, getting cozy, then activated the possession spell. He snapped back into the village, the chill instantly settling back into his bones despite the sun pouring down overhead.

Aisling frowned. She ran faster, all but using movement techniques.

Fflyn glanced at Oz as he took over. We’ve been chasing that yellow-robed guy since you left. I have no idea where he’s going, but he just doesn’t stop!

This might be an Underhill, Oz responded, looking around. He circulated his qi and focused, searching for something, anything. His left eye ached, but nothing stood out in his vision.

How would you tell? Fflyn asked.

Oz snorted. I wish I knew.

Ahead of them, Roan vanished around the corner again. He lifted his hand. “Aisling, slow down, subtly.”

Aisling slowed her pace. She glanced at him, frowning. “He’ll get away.”

“I don’t think he will. I bet he’ll be just around the corner when we turn again,” Oz predicted. I’ve played video games with chase mechanics before. If they want you to follow the character or enemy, but not lose sight, they’ll usually have the character match pace to your character or give you catchup mechanics. We would notice if they’d cast some spell on us to speed us up, a la catchup mechanics, so that only leaves having the other character match our pace. If we’re really being led, as I suspect we are, then Roan should slow as well. If we aren’t…

Well, it’s just one turn. We can probably catch up and find him again.

Aisling’s brows furrowed, but she said nothing.

Around the next turn. As Oz had suspected, Roan appeared for a brief instant before flickering out of view yet again. He pursed his lips. Quietly, he murmured, “We’re being led.”

“Are you sure?” Aisling asked.

Oz frowned at her, then at himself, at all of them. He looked up, at the sun now high overhead. How long have we been following Roan for? And no one finds it odd. Not us, not the townsfolk. This… this isn’t right. There’s something wrong here. The illusion goes another step deeper than merely hiding the true depth of this space.

What else is it hiding?

If I had my fey eye… Oz paused. Fey eye. Fey possession spell. Can I maybe possess Fflyn’s eye with my eye, and see through his perspective with my eye? It’s crazy, and yet, they’re both fey magic.

Nearly the moment he thought it, his eye hummed in its socket, a strange, buzzing sensation. It resonated with the spell, wanting to connect, but didn’t have enough qi to power through.

You want qi? Dammit… take it all! Oz shoved his qi into his eye. It hummed harder, vibrating against his skull.

All at once, his vision expanded. Colors burst everywhere. The buildings decayed in an instant, long-abandoned, with leaky roofs and leaning halls, deep cracks in between the slats. The people stumbled by, numb and pale, all of them without heads, no, not a single head in sight. And all around him, all around them—

“Stop!” Oz shouted, the color draining from his face.