Horrified, Cyrus felt his body enraptured by the cool mist of the forest. How did the wraith manage to sneak past Van and capture him with its wicked water magic? Cyrus tried as hard as he could to swim out of the bubble but every time he thrashed in any direction, the bubble followed him. He let out another scream but the bubble flew up, drowning his screams in gurgling. With water pouring down all the wrong passages of his burning throat, he emerged out of the bubble to gasp for sweet air. Cyrus began to hyperventilate until he felt lightheaded and airy. He slumped back in his bubble as his eyesight darkened. Before he lost consciousness he prayed he wasn’t done for.

When Cyrus awoke, the forest was still dimmed by a twilight ambiance. But much to his surprise, the fog seemed to surround the grove of whispering pines but not enter. Feeling a prickling sensation on his arms, he saw he was bound to a tree with several feet of rope. He looked to his left and his right and saw several piles of bones and scales around him. Liccan bones. They lay around a large fire and a spit where the wraith roasted its tasty morsels. He began to cry and sob over the sight of dead liccans but just as he did, he saw the watery wraith emerge from the sharp thickets and move its way towards him.

“Oh please Mister Wraith. I’m a prince, and my parents will recognize you as the greatest wraith in the world if you spare my life. Please Mister Wraith I…”

The wraith reached out a watery claw to touch Cyrus’ chubby cheeks. “Wraiiiith?” It hissed. “I’m no wraith.”

Right before his eyes, Cyrus watched as the wraith took a corporeal form. A form that greatly surprised him. It took on the form of a tan-skinned elven girl no older than ten. Her hair was a light brown and her scruffy bangs were a shining silver. She had large blue eyes that gazed up at him with a lively look. Dark tattoos of diamond shaped fish circled her arms like tapestry. She was barefoot but wore a raggedy farming sack as a tank top and a grass skirt. Little fangs bit her lips as she quickly sneered at him.

“I want you to guess what I am,” she demanded in her raspy but high pitched voice. “But I will give you one hint-I’m a pillager of villages, a vicious monster that kidnaps livestock and women and I live in the misty forests where no one dares go.”

“Uh….an elf!” Cyrus responded quickly!

The elven girl quickly threw her club on the ground, pointing her sharpened finger nails right at Cyrus’ face. “Wrong. Do elves do any of that stuff?! Tell me one legend where a tooty-snooty elf does any of those wicked things!”

“Uh….” Cyrus was getting more confused by the minute. So confused he forgot he was scared. “Are you an angry elf?”

The elven girl’s head titled slightly sideways before she stomped on the ground, picked up her club and thrust it at Cyrus. “Wrong!”

Cyrus felt the sweat on brow but he answered again. “You’re an evil elf! An anti-social elf! An elf with a lot of bad attitude!”

“Again again again! You’re wrong. I’m not some frippy blippy elf!” The elven girl turned around before letting out a tiny snarl and a gnash her baby fangs. “I’m an orc! Rargh!”

Cyrus paused for a second before a chuckle escaped his lips. His chuckles erupted into loud guffaws. “Oh man, you really got me going. And I’m a big, pink, bubble-blowing dragon!”

There was a look of sadness and embarrassment came over the confused elf’s face. Her long ears sank when she realized Cyrus wasn’t actually intimidated by her.

“Hey!” a voice shouted from the thicket. “Unhand the prince!”

A bearded Van emerged from the fog, along with Archibald and Antonio. Van had her sword drawn, Antonio wielded his two rapiers and Archibald clutched his briefcase. Each had a serious look on their face-they fully understood the gravity of the situation…at least until they realized who was holding Cyrus hostage.

“Cyrus, chico, did you really get yourself kidnapped by that adorable critter. Es muy pequeno,” Antonio said, putting his hands on his knees.

Antonio sheathed his rapiers into his belt and walked towards the creature with his hands outstretched. Cyrus could see by her stance and the look in her eyes that she was planning something.

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“Yo future beauty,” Antonio said as he approached the young elven girl. “How about you unhand my dear amigo, Cyrus, and show us where some of your older, more-curvaceous elf sisters are…”

Without warning, the young elf leaped into the air and kicked Antonio’s head with both her feet. Before he could utter a single word, Antonio’s face hit the ground. His long hair lay around his head like a puddle of spilled mead.

Cyrus would have laughed if he wasn’t scared that this little elf could do the same to him. Van let out a cry and dashed towards Cyrus attempting to cut his ropes, but the young elf quickly snatched her bow from her campsite. Standing at odds with the scruffy elven girl, it was an elegant silver bow adorned with glistening rubies and sapphires of pure blue. In it, she stretched three arrows which cut through the air at such a rate that Van could only slice two of them. The third stuck out of her breast plate, and she froze with terrified eyes.

The elven girl spoke clear and defiantly. “One step further and it will be your head, bearded lady.”

“You know I’m a woman?” Van exclaimed.

“Of course, I’m an orc. Women from our clan are known to have great big beards. I’ve been trying to get one myself.”

“You’re an…orc?” Van said, her eyes still widened but this time just out of curiosity.

“I am Oga! The nastiest, meanest, ugliest, smelliest orc in this whole kingdom. I am here to spread nothing but fear and terror in Aristillus.”

Archibald took a step forward but Oga fired an arrow straight into his briefcase. “Don’t come closer…or I’ll...”

“Whoa hey,” Archibald squawked. “I just wanted to say, it’s nasty to meet you, Oga. My eyes water at how foul you truly are.”

Suddenly a small fanged overbite smile came over Oga’s face. “What did you say?”

“Yeah?” Van said with a shocked look. “What did you say, Archibald?”

“I said,” the Majester remarked with a clever smile. “If you smell this bad from over here. I can only imagine how bad you smell up close!”

“I’m so smelly I peel onions just by talking!” Oga exclaimed. “And outhouses smell like greenhouses when you compare them to me!”

Cyrus couldn’t help but smile gently. Deep down, he knew his best friend was better at charming people than Antonio. “I think I’m better off over here,” Archibald said. “But…”

“But what…” the little elf asked.

“We are a band of thieves and bandits fresh from Thieves’ Town. We’ve actually been looking for a nice town to pillage. Do you happen to know one?”

“You want to pillage a village?” Oga’s eyes glinted while her raspy voice heightened. “I…I…”

Even from a distance, Cyrus could see Archibald’s eyebrows playfully dance. “I figured such a fearsome orc would have a few go-to locations for all your pillaging needs.”

“I know one!” Oga said. “It’s a bit deeper into the Forest of Illusion! I can show you and you can help me burn it down to the ground!”

“That’s a deal, my smelly orc friend,” Archibald said. “I’d shake your hand but I feel that a monster like you wouldn’t like that. Instead we shall do the orc war chant.”

Archibald crouched, spreading his legs apart and waved his arm wildly. He dropped his pants and lifted them up. He wailed loudly, “Ooga chugga ooga chugga smelly bumps and ugly lumps. Any orc without them is a chump!” Ooga chugga!”

Oga’s eyes sparkled as she watched Archibald doing his ridiculous dance, and she quickly joined in. She began crouching weirdly and dropping and lifting her grass skirt. Antonio lifted his head to see Archibald and Oga stomping around.

“Either mi cabeza’s gone loco or the Majester’s lost it,” Antonio said weakly. “What going on?”

“Oh nothing,” Van said smiling. “He’s just doing what you could never do. Charming the pants off a girl.”

“Adio mio,” he responded.

After their dance, Archibald and Oga removed Cyrus from the tree. “I’m sorry,” Oga responded. “I didn’t know you were with a man of culture.”

“I thought you were an orc?” Cyrus said raising an eyebrow “What kind of orc apologizes?”

Oga grimaced “Ugh, old habits. I must eat them!”

“Well, while you do that, my ugly friend,” Archibald said. “How about you lead the way to this village.”

“Ah yes,” Oga said with a sinister smirk on her face. “Those Aquarians will rue the day they’ve ever crossed us. The most fearless orc and human brigade there ever was…We are the…?”

Archibald wildly grinned. “Orcmageddon!”

The four honorary orcs followed the confused elf into the forest. They were quickly overtaken by the fog, but the bow Oga held in her hand glistened, lighting a path for them to walk. Cyrus felt relieved they were having an elf lead them to the Aquarian village. This forest was creepier than the others they had been in, but now they were with someone who lived in it. What could possibly go wrong?

Cyrus heard a rustle from a nearby bramble bush, and for a split second, he saw a fully white mask with no features save for two eye slits appear in the darkness. “Guys? Uh perhaps you should look at this,” Cyrus said.

He pointed in the direction of the glowing white mask but it was gone. “Cyrus, hermano, I was the one kicked in the head,” Antonio responded. “Your blood sugar running low or something?”

“No…I saw a blinding white mask,” Cyrus turned his head and gasped. “Look up ahead!”

The bright white mask hovered before them. A purple robed body appeared with it. Everyone was speechless as the figure duplicated around them, filling every gap of the trees and leaving them no exit.

“Welcome to the Forest of Illusion, my friends,” the masked figure spoke in a voice lower than hell itself. “Perhaps you’d like a demonstration of how it got its name…”

“The masked fiend who killed my master…” Van breathed hard. “He’s back…”