Idris

The next morning, much to Saya’s dismay, Howl had disappeared, probably off to rejoin her pack. In her place was a large white feather, pristine as a crystal.

Sheila explained that moon wolves have an eye for beauty, often decorating their dens with the feathers of birds. This white feather is from the tail of a horned snowy owl, one of the largest species in the mountains. Howl left it as a gift to show her gratitude.

This made Saya feel a little better, and she decided to keep the feather, sticking into her hair bun like some strange cowlick.

“Are you gonna just… wear it like that?” Idris asked as they packed up the last of their camping equipment.

They still had half a day’s journey ahead of them, and time wasn’t on their side.

“I’ll ask Juno to make it into a proper ornament when we get back,” answered Saya.

“When we get back…” Idris mumbled to himself.

It had been a long time since he had been home.

He missed home. He missed home a lot.

Recently, he has been feeling less like an assassin, and more like a lost vagrant, searching for something just out of reach. While everyone else was varying degrees of adept at combat, he was an infiltration specialist. Though he can still hold his own in most situations, he was rarely needed when the likes of Saya and Thomas were present.

He looked out to the south, over the lesser peaks and distant green, hoping to see more familiar sights on the horizon. But alas the horizon was barren, the great cities and towns hidden behind the rolling landscape.

“You two, let’s go,” ushered Thomas, looking back at Idris and Saya who still stood beside the extinguished campfire. “No time to waste.”

“Come on, Idris,” said Saya with a smile.

Idris smiled wryly at Saya. Just her words alone were enough to make him feel a little better.

They continued through the wilderness, the previous day’s snowfall covering much of the freshly exposed patches of grass. Though the snow wasn’t too thick, it was still enough to once again blanket everything in white.

Progress was a little faster this time, as everyone had acclimated to the thinner air up in the mountains. Saya especially was a lot more energetic today, something Idris was thankful for.

By midday, they had passed through another ridgeline, and Sheila informed them that the hermit’s abode would not be too much further.

Here, the mighty River of Atlas was barely a stream, just a thin trickle of water cutting through the freshly fallen snow.

As they trudged along, Sheila abruptly stopped ahead of them, pointing at the snow-covered forest floor.

“It ends here, the River of Atlas,” he told them.

As Idris approached, he could see the thin rivulet of water dwindling, before snaking off into a thousand twines and disappearing into the fresh snow.

They were at the origin of the River of Atlas, where the air is thinner but the trees still lush and snow covers in winter

They were there.

But the hermit was nowhere to be seen.

“Are we there?” Thomas asked.

Sheila nodded.

“Then where is this mysterious hermit?” he pressed further, looking about at the pale landscape. “I see no humble abode anywhere…”

“He knows we’re here,” said Sheila, holding up a hand to reassure Thomas. “He’ll show himself in a moment.”

They stood in silence for a moment.

Finally, Thomas lost his patience.

“Nothing is…” he began, but as if waiting for his outburst, a black mist descended upon them.

It spread across the sky like wildfire, turning the blue skies purple and encasing them in deep magenta. The sun became the moon as storm clouds seemed to swirl into existence above them.

The trees around them began to morph and twist, their limbs turning into grotesque tentacles, lashing wildly at anything within reach.

Shrieks and monstrous cries filled the air as dark shapes began to manifest in the depths of the forest. Their distorted, tumorous flesh was dark in the purple haze, but their teeth and claws glistened in the moonlight, grinding and flexing as they came charging out of the darkness.

Idris felt Saya grab him from behind before being thrown backward off his feet by her telekinesis.

“I’ll protect you!” she stated with a warm smile, her spear at the ready.

“I don’t need your protecting…” Idris muttered as he scrambled to his feet.

“Then fight alongside me,” she said.

Idris drew his dagger and stood with his back up against Saya’s. This isn’t the first time they’ve fought together like this.

“Sheila!” Thomas roared, drawing his dagger as he advanced on Sheila. “What is this?”

Sheila chuckled. “It’s him.”

Then he disappeared before Thomas’ eyes as if consumed by the purple void.

A tentacle whipped towards Idris, but he jumped in time to avoid it, the powerful impact below his feet kicking up a cloud of dirt.

Seeing this, Saya swung her spear with immense force, the bladed edge whistling through the air, before smashing through the tentacle as it lay on the ground. But instead of slicing it in half, it simply glided through the grotesque branch with no harm done.

She had no time to be confused, as a monstrous beast pounced at her from behind, forcing her to dive aside to avoid its decapitating claws.

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It resembled a horse, but badly out of proportion and with cutlass-like claws for hooves. Its eyes bulged and swiveled as it landed clumsily, sliding to a stop on the snowy ground.

Rolling to her feet, she extended her hand toward the monster, channeling her power into a blast of telekinesis that could send a bear flying.

But the beast barely stirred.

“Uh oh…” she gulped.

Idris moved the shadows over Saya and himself, using the darkness as concealment.

Yet the monster seemed to have no trouble spotting them. It stared down Saya for a moment, before charging again.

Saya readied her spear as the beast galloped toward her.

Without a moment to spare, Idris threw his dagger at the monster, hoping to slow it or at least distract it enough for Saya to land a good hit.

But, like before, his dagger passed through the beast harmlessly, sinking itself into the frozen soil next to Thomas, who was facing off against two monsters alongside Otto.

The flying blade caught Thomas’ attention, who lifted it from the ground with his telekinesis and tossed it back to Idris.

“They’re apparitions!” Thomas shouted above the monstrous shrieks. “They can’t hurt you! But we’ll need to find a way out of this!”

Saya seemed to perk up.

Idris vaguely remembers doing a topic on apparitions sometime during his time in class, but it had been a while since he’d last glossed over past content, so he couldn’t quite remember much more about it.

“Idris!” yelled Saya as she ran towards him, the beast close on her heels. “I’ve an idea!”

“Wait…” Idris began but had the air knocked out of him by Saya, who tackled him at the waist before picking him up into the air.

With a flying leap, she shot into the air with Idris, flying well over the charging beast, and landing gracefully next to Thomas and Otto.

“What’s happening?” Idris asked as Saya dropped him on the ground.

“We’re in someone’s realm,” Otto replied. “A phantasmic realm… a rare ability…”

“What does it do?” asked Saya, dropping low again as a monster came towards them.

“They can’t do anything to us. They aren’t real,” said Otto, not flinching as a beast leaped at him, only to phase through his body like liquid. “They’re apparitions, phantasms of the telepath’s mind. I’ve seen this ability before… escaping can be a little troublesome.”

The world around them was all but foreign, the colors ethereal and the monsters unsightly. Yet all of it was so real, so indistinguishable from reality Idris would not have questioned their existence if he had not been told about phantasmic realms.

“Is there a way out?” Thomas asked, looking around. “Where’s Sheila?”

The foreign assassin was nowhere to be seen.

“He must not have been included in this realm. Whoever is doing this, Sheila must be in on it…” replied Otto.

Thomas cursed under his breath.

He knew he should have been more careful about trusting someone who clearly didn’t have their best interests in mind.

“Let’s escape first,” said Thomas. “Do you know a way?”

Otto thought for a moment. “If I remember correctly, one must find the source of a phantasmic realm to escape it. This realm does not remove the real world, merely hides it from us. If we move in the realm, we move in the real world too. The spells and magic we cast will be cast upon objects in the real world too.”

“I can’t use my clairvoyance well…” said Thomas as he tried to see through the apparitions with his power. “The effect power of this phantasmic realm interferes with it…”

“I have an idea…” mumbled Idris.

He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

The shadows moved and warped to his will, and he could sense their presence.

Not only does his unique ability allow him to control shadows, but it also allows him to sense the presence of shadows. Though only roughly, he can make out the shape of landscapes by sensing shadows, and thus see through the phantasmic realm.

“Are you using your shadows?” Saya asked, standing close to him.

Idris nodded.

Unlike Thomas’ clairvoyance, his ability to sense shadows does not require the extension of an effect power field, nor does it require him to produce a flow of mana. As such, it is not affected by the phantasmic realm.

“The source of the magic is somewhere there,” said Saya, pointing into the violet forest. Her telepathy allows her some ability to sense others’ use of telepathy.

“I can feel it too… She’s right,” Otto added.

Idris followed Saya’s finger, casting his shadows into the distance and sensing their movements.

He could distinguish the smooth snow, the rough patches of grass, the stubby bushes, and the tall silhouettes of trees.

“Can you see?” Whispered Saya.

Idris shook his head.

The shapes were too blurry, his still vague connections to the shadows not enough for any appreciable amount of detail.

“I need some movement…” muttered Idris.

“I can do that!” Saya stated proudly, raising her spear, and imbuing it with magical energy before slamming it into the ground.

The powerful strike, fueled by Saya’s immense telekinesis, sent a shockwave rumbling across the ground, rolling the earth and tossing aside the trees. The frozen soil cracked and shattered, heaving upwards in chunks before crashing back down.

Idris focused on the shadows as the rumbling earth swept into the distance. If one didn’t want to be buried in the upheaved earth, they would need to evade in one way or another.

Then he noticed a tiny movement.

A roughly human-sized shadow shuffled just a step or two to the side, just out of harm’s way, but it was enough for him to notice.

“There…” Idris whispered, pointing at the figure.

“Got it…” Saya replied, lifting her spear like a javelin.

She wound her arm back, and with a grunt, launched her spear faster than an arrow from the heaviest of war bows

The long pole screamed through the air, crunching through several trees, shattering the thick wood into broken splinters before disappearing from view.

Then, for a brief moment, nothing.

“Did… did it work?” Saya asked.

“Something’s happening,” said Thomas, looking up at the wavering sky. “The effect power is weakening…”

The purple hue faded, and the false world began to flicker and warp. The twisted trees returned to their normal, unbroken forms. The grotesque monsters ceased to exist, their terrific cries no longer filling the air.

In a moment, they were back in the snowy mountains.

“Saya…” Idris mumbled. “Where did you learn those moves?”

“Heehee… I’ve been practicing.”

Idris looked toward the place he had pointed Saya to and saw the large patch of overturned earth, the permafrost crumbled and the trees uprooted.

Beside it was a row of trees with a jagged hole punched through them by Saya’s spear.

At the end of the destruction stood a man he did not recognize, Saya’s spear in hand, snatched out of the air before it could hurt him.

“Greetings,” croaked the old man, apparently the one who had cast the phantasmic realm, his voice raspy and withered with age. “What takes you to me? Up here in these mountains?”

“Aurora…” said Sheila, who had appeared next to Thomas, as he dropped to one knee. “Good to see you again.”

“Sheila, no need to be so formal…” the old man replied.

“Aurora?” Otto whispered to himself, the name seeming to put him deep in thought. “Aurora…”

Without another word, Thomas tackled Sheila from behind, pinning him to the ground with a sword to his neck. He was taking no more chances with this questionable man.

“Are you who we seek?” Thomas shouted to the old man. “The hermit who lives at the origin of the River of Altas, where the air is thinner but the trees still lush and snow covers in winter?”

“I believe so…” the old man croaked back. “You and I have a colorful past… I assume you are here to speak about it?”

“Perhaps… what is this past you speak of?” Thomas inquired further.

“Rose,” the old man replied simply. “History.”