Stell, with his lumen recorder safely back in its box, followed the crowd led by the World Walker. The alien man rode his snow white dire-beast slowly, allowing both the music and excitement to labor on. From the grass, a song played, one fast paced and snappy. Stell looked for the flute player, but instead found the same villager playing a crude fluted horn of some sort—the song reflected the instrument.

Ahead, the galley chopped through the waves, its rolling swing slowing to a crawl before stopping completely. As if controlling the magical ocean, once the ship stopped moving, the rough, terrible waves did as well. It was then Stell realized his folly—the whole scene was an illusion. With a simple declaration, he dispelled the near-perfect magic, finding what was actually there.

The ship was real, as well as a loading stage on either side for guests to enter and exit the attraction. A switch-back style queue with a shaded tent covering it from the sun extended from the ride’s entrance. Stell was never good at magic nor glyphcraft, but he recognized hundreds—thousands even—of etched glyphs. They were faint, hardly carved into the wooden hull and/or the tent that covered the queue, but Stell’s demonic eyes allowed him to see.

That was the true “gift” of the demonic race—they could perceive things, magic namely, others couldn’t. As a result, their eyes also induced fear into those who locked eyes with them.

Stell’s jaw slowly opened as he scanned the floor of the queue—more glyphs. He studied the fence posts separating the switches in the line’s direction—again, more glyphs. He found multiple—seemingly random—poles jutting from the tented cover… again, more glyphs. Sprouting from the ship’s giant metal arms, a web of branching metal reached out for seemingly no reason, and yet, they were covered in glyphs. The branches gave no structural support, no additional strength—

Stell allowed the illusions to return. The branches of metal and random poles were gone, in their place, an eternal lightning storm of rolling dark clouds and silent echoing thunder.

He didn’t know what to say. How could he? In all his years in this world, he had never seen anything like this—ever. Are there even illusion glyphs that stretch this wide? Stell wondered. Is this the magic of the World Walker, or is this something the Guilds have been hiding all these years?

“Everyone!” Luka shouted from his mount. “Please enjoy the ride! And make sure the Hero gets his delivery!”

With that, the dire-wolf stepped to the side, allowing the first guests into the queue. With illusions, the outside of the switchbacks simply looked like a continuation of the magical water surrounding the ship… but that was hardly the case inside the queue.

Stell stepped in and was transported to a different world. Rays of light cut through the top of the ocean, highlighting the underwater world. Reefs, as far as he could see, stretched into the distance, disappearing into dark waters. The park’s emberwood trees were gone, replaced with rocks covered in coral and thriving barnacles.

Fish of all shapes and sizes swam about, disappeared behind rocks or into the distance. Other creatures roamed, from crustations to octopi, each living their lives as naturally as could be. There was an equilibrium, an actual ecosystem, here, one neither fabricated nor imagined. As Stell watched a turtle the size of an orcish adult swim overhead, bubbles slowly forming from its nose, he finally understood what World Walker Park was.

It was magical.

There was no rhyme or reason for this—there was no explanation for it either! Demonic eyes or not, Luka and Emberwood Village was… was…

Stell lost words when a trio of mighty manta rays swam by, their hulking bodies creating a wake in the water. He watched the wake hurtle toward him, subconsciously holding up his arms—and yet, the wake didn’t hit. It phased right on through, creating a wave of gasps from everyone it passed through.

No one spoke in the line, the new world they currently inhabited did that for them.

Stell, unfortunately, was close to the front of the line and was waved forward by a smiling young orcish woman wearing an “EMPLOYEE” shirt.

“Come on mister, there’s one more seat open this round” she said, beckoning him forward.

She stood at the edge of the underwater world, one foot in, the other on the start of a wooden dock. Again, the dock wasn’t real, it was just an illusion, but Stell felt wood under his feet. With a quick dispel of the magic, he confirmed that fact.

What amazing detail, he thought. Illusions held no tactile feel, so when walking on an illusion, the real material mattered. In this case, where a wooden dock started, so did a wooden path.

“Last seat is three rows back on your right,” the woman said, giving him a slight nudge.

Stell stepped forward and crossed the short dock. He was back outside, the dark rolling clouds overhead. The dock perfectly connected to the deck of the ship, almost as if both were created with the other in mind. He took a deep breath and stepped onto the Walker.

It looked like a ship, Stell had to give them that. But where a ship was practically a hive of irritated sailors, the Walker was filled with strange seats. On either side, rows of these seats sat facing the main mast, each filled with chattering guests oohing and aweing, pointing and laughing.

Stell went to the right, stepping up three wide stairs until he found his seat. He sat, his lumen recorder snuggly in his lap. Before him, and everyone for that matter, was a “T” bar protruding from the back of the seat in front of them.

From the watery world, the orcish woman yelled, “Everyone! Pull down on the lap bar as far as it goes! If it doesn’t lock, raise your hand!”

Stell did as told, moving his recorder out of the way. He wiggled a bit, finding the “lap bar” snug against his, well, lap. He coiled the strap of his recorder around his arm, protecting it the best he could.

“Check!” a gruff voice yelled. Stell looked to the side, finding a dwarven man wearing a park-employee shirt. “Check!” the same orcish woman yelled back. The man then tapped the top of a podium disguised as a barrel—and the ship started moving.

“Have a safe trip!” the woman said to the riders, a smirk on her face. She pointed to a barrel on the far end of the deck. “And don’t forget to deliver the goods! The Hero needs them!”

Stell didn’t like that smirk. Just what had he gotten himself into?

The ocean on either side started to move as wind ruffled the wide sails. The ship moved away from the dock, and the orcish woman disappeared along with the underwater world. Soon the dock was but a small blip in an infinitely large ocean.

The ship continued gaining speed.

A wave slammed into the hull, and Stell felt his stomach lurch. His eyes briefly met the dark thunderclouds—they didn’t cower in fear, if anything, they only grew. A bolt of lightning flashed from the heavens, crashing into the murky, rough waves as rain began to fall. A couple of barrels started sliding across the deck. A wave lifted the ship, tipping it until Stell was looking into the deathly ocean.

People were screaming! Each clutching their lap bars as if their lives depended on it! Stell held his lumen recorder tighter. But—in between the waves, when the ship lulled, Stell could hear the excitement. Giggles, laughs, cheers, and whatnot. It was there, hidden behind the mask of fear—hidden behind the illusions of a watery death.

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A smile broke across his demonic face. His eyes went wide when a shark flopped from the water onto the lower deck! Fish leaped from the waves, giant tentacles sprouted from either side of the ship, clawing their way from the depths—a flash of lighting bolted down, smiting the creature! Sizzling black smoke wafted amongst the rain, and Stell thought he could smell grilled octopus.

Overhead, one of the sails caught on fire, ropes snapping from the diabolical heavy winds. Stell might have screamed a little at that. Yet, a ray of light stopped him. It burst from the dark clouds like a hymn against evil. It eased the waves, it sent the fish and sharks back to their homes, it slowed the ship down, it—

The dock suddenly appeared, along with the smiling orcish woman and the gruff dwarven man. They both smiled and waved, careening the ship into port.

“Welcome back!” the woman cheered, when the ship came to a rest. “Glad you all are alright! Did you deliver the goods?”

Stell paused, glancing around. The barrel was gone—his stomach sunk. “No… it must have fallen out,” he muttered loud enough everyone on the ship could hear.

His “crewmates” all nodded along, dire expressions on all of them.

The orcish woman gave them a sympathetic look. “Must’ve been a mighty storm, huh! Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got plenty of willing people to try again!” She jutted a thumb toward the guests waiting in line. Then, she said, “Please exit to the right!”

Stell stood gawking. Three words came to mind about this whole experience.

This. Is. Epic!

***

Luka, Eve, Franky, and Mayor Tram quietly discussed Rogue Wave as they watched smiling guests exit the ride.

“I think you’ve outdone yourself,” said the mayor.

“Thank Sol and Eve—they taught me how to stitch illusions,” Luka replied. The ride was… not perfect in his mind. But it was a good foundational start, very good.

Just exiting the ride, a mother held her son’s hand, the kid practically skipping down the illusionary dock. Behind them, an elderly woman strolled forward, her cane all but forgotten and youth filling her bones. Behind her, two teens held each other in their arms, their eyes wide but now holding memories they’d never forget.

“That was all Aunt Sol,” Eve reluctantly said. “As much as it pains me to admit, she came through last night.” Above them, a raven cawed. Eve glared at the bird. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t care what you say.”

“I just hope next time doesn’t take so long,” Luka darkly said. “How many hours of sleep did I get again?”

“Five,” Franky answered with a shiver. “Waking you was hard—I thought you were dead at first. Can you imagine little Leo curled up across your chest, sleeping on your dead body? Because I can.”

Leo, fully sized, barked.

Luka scratched his buddy on the neck. “Good boy. Next time someone tries to wake us, just growl at them until they leave us alone!”

Eve frowned at the same time Tram smirked. “That’s a great idea!” the latter said. “Nothing like a guard pup!”

Rolling her eyes, Eve said, “Yeah, real nice… until you’re the one waking them—which will be me or Franky.

Luka stretched, feeling his spine pop several times. “Let’s just make it so this situation never has to happen again. Next attraction we build, we need to properly plan it out.”

“Indeed—and I have a few ideas about that.” Tram had that glimmer in her eye.

“Of course you do.”

“Obviously, a single night isn’t enough time, which is why we could use your building as a marketing gimmick.” She stretched her arms out wide. “Imagine this: ‘Come one, come all, come see the World Walker’s divine magic in action! What’s he building, no one knows! Only that it’s going to be magical!’”

The three others blankly stared.

“You’re crazy, Mayor,” Franky muttered.

“It’s the money,” Eve added.

With a sigh, Luka said, “Yes, Tram, I like the idea. And I can understand the theatrics of it all. If we are going to do that, we’d need to set specific times I’d be working, then work for a few hours, then finish the rest the next day or at night.”

“Like one of them stage shows,” Tram said. “Exactly. Once we find when off-hours are, we can hold the shows then, thus drawing more people to the park during those times.”

The next round of guests exited the attraction. They dispersed back into the park or rejoined Rogue Wave’s queue, with smiles on their faces.

Eve growled something incoherent and removed a handful of coins from her pocket. She practically threw them at her brother. Franky smirked like a preening goldfish.

“Thanks, sis!”

Luka raised an eyebrow. “What’s that for?”

“We had a bet. She bet in the first two full rides, a guest would throw up. I bet not.”

“Eve!”

“What?” she asked. “When we finished last night and rode it, I almost threw up! I thought someone surely would, okay!?”

“Sucker,” Franky said under his breath, receiving a dower glare.

Shaking his head slowly, Luka looked across the area. So far, Rogue Wave had a long line. The switchback queue was completely filled and spilling out past the fences. The line would need to be extended, at least temporarily. But then again… if today’s attendance numbers were anything to go off of, tomorrow World Walker Park was going to see even more guests.

Maybe an extended queue was the smart thing to do. Oh! And more bathrooms. Can’t have enough of those.

Luka carefully watched the next round of riders exit. Again, all were smiling and loudly discussing the ride with their friends and fellow riders. None, so far, seemed too scared—something Luka was afraid of himself. If the swings were too scary, the pirate ship ride surely was as well. But that was what the illusionary underwater queue was for, to ease anxiety.

Seems to be working, Luka thought, Hopefully, in the future—

He cut himself off abruptly when he locked eyes with a man watching him in the distance. Briefly, for as long as it took to blink, Luka felt a terrible sensation roll down his spine. Sweat built and dripped down his back and brow, his knees went limp, his hands shook.

“Guys,” he harshly said, cutting off the banter between siblings, “that man over there—what’s he doing? I think he just did something to me.”

Everyone looked over, finding a demonic man standing down the way. He shifted his weight around his feet anxiously.

“You scared of him?” Tram asked.

“Y-yeah,” Luka said.

“Don’t worry about it. That happens with demons. Don’t look them in the eye, and you’ll be fine. They’re nice people, in my experience, they just have some oddities.” Tram eyed the man. “Although… that man does look suspicious now that I think about it.”

Eve and Franky studied the man as well. “Yeah,” Eve said. “What’s that box he’s holding?”

“It’s not a bomb, is it?” Luka hesitantly asked.

“Nah,” Franky said with a laugh. “The Gods would smite him down if he was carrying a bomb and intended to detonate it here.”

“Doesn’t mean the box still can’t be holding a bomb.”

Franky paused. “I guess you’re right. Wow! That guy really might have a bomb! We should do—”

Tram thumped him on the back of the head. “Shut up, child. That’s not a bomb—it’s a lumen recorder box. That man’s a reporter from Sneerhome.”

Eve’s eyes widened. “That might be worse than a bomb!”

Franky laughed but stopped when Luka didn’t laugh with him. “Eve, trust me. Nothing is worse than a bomb.”

“Melodramatic, much?” Tram asked before waving the demonic man over. The man quickly looked away, keeping his eyes low as he practically dashed across the walkway.

He stopped just before the group and introduced himself, “Hello, I’m Junior Associate Editor for the Sneerhome Chronicle, Stell Metus. Would you mind if I asked you, Mr. World Walker and Mrs. Mayor some questions for tomorrow morning’s issue?”

“A newspaper?” Luka asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “This world has the press?”

“Of course it does,” Tram replied. “After all, it was one of your own that created the industry.”

Stell jumped and said, “That’s right. World Walker Pulitzer, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Pulitzer?” Luka asked. “Pulitzer was reincarnated here?”

The demon hesitantly nodded, his eyes still cast low. “You know of him—” The man gasped. “Was Pulitzer from your world?”

“From Earth, yeah. Wow. Which God reincarnated him, and how long ago did it happen?”

“That would have been God Uin some hundred years ago. I wasn’t alive at the time of Pulitzer’s death—or should I say second death—but as I understand it, he was very celebrated on this world.”

Luka couldn’t believe it and looked to Tram for confirmation.

“Sounds about right,” she said. “All you World Walkers are celebrated when you second-die… And what better way to secure your legacy, Luka, than a well-made front-page article in the Sneerhome Chronicle!?”

“Well, uh, the front page is heavily contested,” Stell said. “I can’t guarantee—”

Tram slapped the man on the back. “Front page or no interview!”

“Mayor—I can’t just—”

“Sure, you can! Front page or no interview! Simple as that!”

Luka loudly sighed before this went any further. “I’ll do the interview regardless of the page. What’s your first question?”

Stell glanced up, making sure not to look Luka in the eye. “My first question is, would you mind having your picture taken?” He patted his leather box. “Oh! A picture is a—”

“I know what a picture is, and yes, go ahead.”

“Okay—ah, uh,” he fumbled with the box. “While I set up, how about you tell me about yourself?”