Eve strolled through the park beside her brother. Their shift at Todd’s was over, and they weren’t scheduled to work in the park until sunset. Eve would have her first shift in a souvenir shop while Franky volunteered with janitorial work. They’d close out the day working, like most nights.

Eve had long grown used to working. As the oldest orphaned “kids” in the park, she and her brother understood the value of money more than anyone else in the village. Most villagers had lived in Emberwood their whole lives, and those that remained lived by bartering and trade—not with money.

Unfortunately, Eve and Franky didn’t have that luxury. They didn’t own any land, nor raised any farm animals. Neither were hunters, trappers, or adventurers. Franky moonlighted as a barn hand, but that was mostly because Todd needed someone to tend to the bar’s overnight customers. While their riders drank the days away, mounts were often dropped off where they rested and/or played with Sebby, Leo, and Olive.

Eve thought back a few years ago, specifically to the months following the mine’s collapse. Aunt Sol took them in, selling their parents’ home for a cash influx. The plan, as Eve understood, was to ship her and Franky off to a boarding school for magic. Sol didn’t know how to raise kids, and both showed the signs of proper mystic talent.

But Franky wouldn’t go, he had no interest in magic—and Eve wouldn’t abandon him. She wouldn’t abandon anyone, ever. Then, in the years to come, Eve and Franky learned the truth behind the mine, their parents’ deaths, and Sol’s direct involvement. They left their aunt’s home, finding their own prospects, slinging beers to weary travelers.

Until now.

“Oh wow, he’s done a lot today,” Franky said, as they approached Luka’s newest project.

Eve gazed at the strange building. It was short and wide, made completely of wood, but purposefully weathered around the edges and trim. It was unpainted, but emberwood orange gave the area a tenderness akin to a pile of autumn leaves. A second story was capped with a squat roof, one that carried a rickety balcony across the front, facing the water.

The building was built near the water, a few dozen steps at most. It would have been a lovely fishing shack except for its large size. It would easily hold double the number of customers than Todd’s Bar, perhaps even more since the second level served as more seating area.

Along the water, the first steps in creating a dock were present—thick posts that dug deep into the rocky beach and out into the water. The posts lined the shore for a little way, ending abruptly as if Luka had run out of materials.

“I thought he was building a flume or something…” Eve trailed off as she and Franky stepped across a boundary.

Like the doorway into a cellar, the air turned cold, the sky turned gray. Overhead, clouds appeared as if summoned by divine intervention. Darkness consumed the docks and tavern, shifting shadows and highlighting the decayed façade. The worn building suddenly made sense—the salted air was like sandpaper against the thin strips of wood that made up the trim.

They took another step; rain fell.

“Aunt Sol must be back,” Eve casually said, as if the sudden change of weather was perfectly normal. “Luka said he was going to wait on her before doing the illusion work.”

As far as Eve could see, everything was going as planned. Last night, Luka, God Neb, and herself planned out Corsair Harbor’s newest attraction, Whirlpool Plunge. She shuddered at the thought of the god sitting at the table with them, calmly explaining his ideas and innovating on Luka’s. More than once, God Neb read Luka’s mind and pulled the images from his head directly into interactable illusions.

The feat of magic was nothing short of divine, as far as Eve was concerned.

The siblings entered the tavern and followed the construction. Briefly, they stopped to inspect the inside of the bar, but it was evident Luka had hardly touched the interior yet. Instead, they headed down a ramped decline, entering the cellar located in the corner. Mr. Todd’s Bar had a similar cellar, and Eve wouldn’t have been surprised if this cellar was modeled directly off of Todd’s.

But where Todd’s cellar was a small stone room primarily used to store fresh barrels of beer, Luka’s was carved into the ground, tunneling it out like some kind of escape route. Illusions of cobwebs, dirt, sand, and saltwater filled the tunnel, turning the cellar into something more… desolate. The flooring was completely dry, and yet Eve kept picking her boots up to avoid puddles.

What am I doing? she asked herself and trudged through the fake water.

Franky, however, skipped from patch to patch of “dry” floor, happily joining in on the theming. They entered an antechamber lit by crackling torches. Again, in reality, a specialized type of light glyph illuminated the room, but paired with illusionary touches, the room felt genuine. Across the floor, an etching on a compass dug troughs into the cobble, each filled with water leaking in through the walls.

Sectioned evenly across the antechamber were four statues. Each were of the same man—a pirate fitted with a boisterous hat and a beard that would make even the hardest dwarves jealous. The four statues each held a separate item, a cutlass, compass, shovel, and a small chest brimming with riches.

“He did a great job with these,” Franky remarked while leaning in to inspect the chisel work.

Eve thought so as well, but with Luka’s divine magic, she knew it only took him seconds. A pang of jealousy rushed across her face before she smothered it like a dying fire. Emotions like that were only trouble.

Near the exit of the room was a fifth statue, but where the others were easily identifiable as human, this one was not. This statue was crumbled, broken apart at the base and other weak points. A cracked head sat on top, along with a chunk of a familiar hat. The other statues held unique items, but this one was strange. Eve studied the rocks, coming up short—she couldn’t tell what it held.

“Through here, I think,” Franky said, pushing Eve out of the antechamber.

Cold air ripped through the next tunnel—this time real air, likely from a glyph. Water leaked from the ceiling, falling in even, large drops or cascading down the rough walls. Hallways extended from either side of the tunnel, but each was closed off by collapsed rubble. The path Luka wanted guests to take was obvious.

Eve peered down one of the closed hallways, finding a skeleton past the rubble and dust. It was made of stone, but with a few choice glyphs, the lighting gave the hallway a terrible sheen. Metal chains bound it to the wall, and with frayed fabric covering the skeleton’s chest and legs, the setting became obvious. Eve and Franky were strolling through a pirate dungeon.

“I think he’s going to have to tone down the scary aspect of this,” Eve said to her brother. “The kids, and parents for that matter, are not going to like this.”

Franky rubbed his chin. “I dunno, I kinda like it.”

“That’s because you’re an adult. Kids won’t find it fun or spooky. They will cry until their parents drag them out of here.”

Ignoring her, Franky skipped ahead, checking each hallway’s “scene.” It was a concept Eve was unfamiliar with, but one all Earthen amusement parks used. The idea was simple: create an engaging storyline that all guests could enjoy, and suddenly, waiting in line was part of the attraction.

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In a similar vein to Rogue Wave’s underwater queue and storyline about delivering much-needed supplies to a Hero, Whirlpool Plunge had its own story. But where Rogue Wave was a relatively short experience and had a relatively short line, Luka estimated Whirlpool Plunge would be incredibly popular.

“I bet, if we get popular enough, people will wait in line for an hour or more just to ride once,” Luka had said to Eve and God Neb last night.

Frankly, that notion surprised Eve—but when Neb nodded along in agreement, she started to rethink her understanding of amusement parks. Waiting that long just seemed silly to her… until she and Franky started walking down Whirlpool Plunge’s queue. The line itself was part of the attraction, like the prologue to a story or the comedy act before one of Sneerhome’s plays.

“I think I get it now,” Eve muttered to herself, drawing an eye from Franky.

“Say something?” he asked.

Eve smirked, shaking her head and walking ahead. Down the tunnel, the enclosed walls turned once before opening into a ramp leading up. Together, they ventured into the light of day, finding themselves behind the tavern. The same wooden building towered over them, the balcony and docks tugging them away. They followed the path, twisting down to the shoreline, where they found Luka and Aunt Sol.

“And I’m telling you, the ancient elementals should be orange, not green! Why would they be green?!” Luka practically yelled at Sol, who was a few paces away.

Both were weaving magic, but in completely different ways. Luka controlled several sequential glyphs at once, etching them into any nearby surface. Sol, however, twisted her fingers and drew with her magical quill, writing on both air and water. Her work was slow going, but such was adding magic to odd elemental surfaces.

Sol twisted her head to glare. “How does orange make sense for an underground race of ancient elementals? What are they, lava elemental?”

Luka snapped his fingers. “Exactly! This far under the surface, the pressure and heat from the world’s core would produce pockets of lava more often—hence orange elementals.”

Sol pressed her lips firmly. “But they’re underwater—if anything, they should be based on modern-day ocean elementals.”

“And ocean elementals are green, not blue?”

“Why would they be blue!?”

Frustration eclipsed Luka’s face until movement drew his eye. Eve gave a little wave, stepping up and through a wide trough similar to an elongated bathtub. They were outside, but countless illusionary glyphs told the tale of a late-night excursion. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, a rough wind kicking waves into the fake dock they stood on. As far as the eye could see was empty ocean and a budding thunderstorm and behind was the tavern and only the tavern.

From where they stood, the illusions hid World Walker Park completely, despite Eve knowing they should be able to see it from where they stood.

The longer she looked, the more confusion and anxiety bubbled through her belly.

***

Luka softly smiled at Eve, but unfortunately, that smile died when he saw terror build. One moment, she was gleefully looking around, the next, she panicked. Her hand shot out, death gripping Franky’s arm.

“Eve?” Franky asked. “What’s wrong?”

Luka and Sol were at her side in a flash, the latter flicking her wrist to dispel all of the illusions. The magic instantly cut out, disappearing faster than the blink of an eye. The raven on her head cawed at Eve before leaping from Sol’s head and flapping off toward her cottage.

Franky eased Eve to the ground as Luka asked, “Eve, talk to us. What’s wrong?”

Eve visibly forced her head to stay still, her eyes rolling around her head. She snapped them closed and allowed her brother to lay her head down.

“Illusion nausea,” Sol casually said. “Like vertigo but a bit more forgiving.”

Luka watched Eve gently—ever so gently—nod her head in agreement. Franky made a face, almost as if he was disappointed in his sister.

“I don’t understand,” Luka said, shooting a glare at Franky.

Sol raised a palm up into the air, holding it steady. Meanwhile, she said, “Her mind was telling her the illusions were fake, but her body wasn’t listening. Happens to novices often enough. No big deal.”

Luka waited for Eve to confirm her aunt’s words with another nod before he asked, “This won’t happen to guests, right?”

Still, with her hand in the air, Sol gave a shrug. “Maybe. But for that to happen, the guests would have to know there are illusions to begin with. If they think everything is real, their minds won’t try to tell their bodies it’s fake.”

Suddenly, Sol’s raven swooped overhead, dropping a vial. It hurtled through the air, landing perfectly in Sol’s hand. She clasped her fingers around the glass, smoothly uncorking it with her other hand. Then, in one curt motion, tossed all of the liquid inside at her niece.

Green ichor splashed against Eve’s face—who then jumped to an upright position as if kicked in the butt by a horse. She blinked and rubbed her nose, the liquid evaporating into a thin green steam. Tears came to her eyes, but the pain and anxiety were gone. She blinked them away, then pulled-on Franky to stand up.

“That stuff always burns,” Eve muttered, eyeing the glass vial.

Sol scoffed. “Well, you wouldn’t have to smell it if you didn’t fall victim to something as simple as illusion nausea.”

Franky nodded to his aunt’s words. “Really had us worried there, sis.”

Eve gave an unimpressed look. “Sorry, my body got confused when I couldn’t see the rest of the park with the illusions active.”

The raven landed back on Sol’s head, freezing like it was stuffed. “Is that why? Because you knew something should be there, and it wasn’t?”

Begrudgingly, Eve nodded.

Sol and Franky both groaned.

Luka looked between everyone. “Um, forgive me for not understanding the context behind this conversation, but to me, it feels as if you two are giving Eve too hard of a time.”

“They’re not,” Eve replied. “Illusion nausea is…” She bit her tongue and tried again. “When someone is afflicted by illusion nausea, it’s generally kids or novices. It’s a rite of passage for them but embarrassing for anyone beyond their age or station.”

“So that gives them the right to give you irritated glares?”

Franky and Sol both recoiled, looked at each other, then at the ground. “Sorry, Eve,” the former muttered. “What he said,” the latter whispered.

Luka rolled his eyes. “Eve, are you alright?”

“I am,” she said, proudly standing tall. “Sol’s concoction woke my senses up.”

“Yeah, looked like you breathed in smelling salts.”

“Smelling what—”

“Nothing.” Luka held up a hand, not wanting to get off topic. “Illusion nausea: do we have to worry about it for guests?”

The three locals all looked at each other, each making a face or a subtle movement. Then, as one, they all looked back to Luka.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he said.

“No—” Sol quickly said. “Not really, at least.”

“If people were going to have issues, then Rogue Wave’s underwater line would have done it,” Eve added.

“Or the rain during the ride,” Franky said.

“I’m not feeling too reassured,” Luka flatly said.

“Look,” Eve tried, “I’m already embarrassed as it is, can we just move on?”

“No!” Luka snapped. “I am not going to continue working on something that will cause people to become sick! That goes against everything I promised before creating the park!”

Sol squinted at him. “What’s the difference between illusion nausea and people becoming nauseous after riding Rogue Wave or the swings?”

“The difference is,” he whipped a finger at Eve, “people who have illusion nausea look like they’re about to die! Eve looked like a vein burst in her head or something!”

“Nothing so dramatic,” Sol deflected.

Luka jerked back, his eyes going wide—then snapping shut. He opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. Flashes of different things crossed his brow and lips, dark things, things that drilled their way from the deepest recesses of his mind. His fingers tightened into his palms, and his shoulders set straight.

Then quietly, so, so quietly, he whispered, “This isn’t what I promised or agreed to. Eve, you, of all people, should know that. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I just hurt you.”

He walked away. Eve moved to follow, but with a flex of magic, the surrounding stone came together and formed a perfect square. She pushed against the stone but found her path blocked.