April 1, 2025.
Location: 15 miles west of Doras Dhagda, Scottish Highlands.
Memory Perspective: Robert MacCallum.
The decision was locked, we stepped into the Fairy Sanctum, shoulders tense, senses sharp. Crossing the portal stung, cold silk brushed my skin before biting like needles, and one moment my boots crunched on cliffside rock, the next I stood in a world that twisted reality into knots. The forest sprawled endlessly around me, alive with leaves overhead shifting in strange colors, catching light like spilled oil.
Moss glowed underfoot, restless and shifting with each step, while drifting orbs hung in the air, casting uneasy shadows that danced out of sync with their glow. My chest tightened as beauty laced with danger pressed against me, the magic thick and oppressive, like it wanted us gone. "Stick together," I said, voice cutting the stillness, "this place will try to split us."
Chaucer darted ahead, paws skimming the moss as he grinned, "Curious spot, sweet as honey, but itching to kick us out." Hamish scowled, hands hovering near his swords, "Not keen on a forest that thinks it's a bard's dream."
Snow stayed close, her staff casting a soft amber glow across her face, "It's beautiful," she murmured, eyes wary, "but it's breathing, watching."
Langston trailed behind, arms crossed tight as he muttered, "Light bending without refraction, absurd," kicking at the moss. I shot him a look over my shoulder, "Langston, it's magic, ditch the physics and keep up." He opened his mouth for a retort, but a rustling stole the moment, soft like leaves brushing though no breeze stirred, we froze.
Hamish's grip tightened on his sword hilts, Snow's staff flared brighter, and she whispered, "What is that?" her breath hitching. Chaucer crouched behind a root, eyes glinting, "Sprites, in the trees, watching." Langston snorted, voice sharp, "Sprites? What's next, fairy tales?"
Chaucer grinned, teeth flashing, "Wait till they knot you in vines and strip your pride bare." The rustling sharpened, orbs swirled, and winged figures dropped from the branches, small, glowing, their laughter a venomous chime.
One darted close, hovering just beyond my reach, its angular face splitting into a grin, eyes like glass shards, "Thieves! Intruders!" it sang, "Leave, or we'll make you."
Hamish twirled a sword, smirking, "Try it, glowstick." The sprite hissed, whistling shrill, and dozens swarmed from the trees, tiny hands crackling with sparks. I stepped forward, wind whipping from my palms to scatter the first wave, "Defensive positions, Snow, shield us, Langston, behind Hamish and me."
Langston ducked low, grumbling, "Meat shields, perfect." The sprites struck with flashes of light and shrieks of sound, Snow raised her staff, a Glacial Shield snapping up, ice gleaming as it blocked clawing dives. She thrust forward, Ice Shard Barrage ripping through the air, shredding wings, while Hamish charged, Double-Beat Strike landing hard, first slash clipped a sprite, second crushed it to ash.
His Toughness held as sparks grazed his arms, Chaucer danced between them, Twin Wakizashi flashing, slicing through glowing forms with precision. I focused, Prismatic Beam surging, fire and air fused into a searing lance, scattering half the swarm. But they adapted, vines bursting from the moss, snaring Hamish's legs, he grunted, Pain Suppression kicking in, hacking with one blade while the other pinned a sprite mid-lunge.
"Bloody tricks!" he roared as sprites split, some dove low, claws sparking at our knees, others hovered, lobbing blinding bursts of light that seared my eyes. Snow flinched, her shield cracking under the barrage, and she exhaled Healing Mist, a cool vapor soothing the sting as her staff glowed hot with strain.
Chaucer spun, blades a blur, "Pesky glowflies!" he called, stabbing one, but three swarmed him, claws raking his flank, he ducked, Taunting Verse spilling out, "Frail wings, dim wits, my cat's a better foe!" drawing their fury.
The assault intensified, vines thickening around Hamish's ankles, thorns biting deep as he snarled, slashing free. Two sprites darted in, claws raking his forearms, blood welled, dark against his skin, though Toughness dulled the pain. Snow's shield shattered with a sharp crack, ice shards raining down, she stumbled, conjuring a weaker barrier as she gasped, "They're too fast," hurling an Ice Shard Barrage that clipped wings but missed half its mark.
I wove aetheric threads, Aetheric Weaving spinning wind and fire into a roaring vortex that surged upward, sucking sprites into its fiery heart. Their shrieks faded as flames devoured them, thinning the swarm, and I shouted, chest heaving, "Herd them!" Snow nodded, her shield faltering, "Bait?" Chaucer leapt onto a log, arms wide, "Come, glittering pests! My grandmother's fleas bite harder!" drawing the sprites into a furious glow.
He twisted, blades slashing, but a claw grazed his flank, drawing a hiss as Hamish chuckled dryly, "That mouth's a beacon." "It's working," Snow said, shards flying as she covered him, the swarm regrouping with piercing shrieks. A dozen hovered high, light bursts searing our eyes, I blinked through tears, hands weaving faster, "Hold them!" I roared, power surging as the vortex swelled, edges crackling with embers.
It collapsed into a final blast, fire and wind roared, swallowing the swarm as charred sparks rained down, sizzling on the forest floor. Silence fell, broken only by our ragged breaths, and I knelt by a fallen sprite, its glow fading. "Let's see your secrets," I said, hands glowing with Aetheric Weaving, threads sinking into its essence as Insightful Vision flared in my left eye, tracing its mana core, a volatile knot of fire and light.
Memories hit, a rune-covered pedestal pulsing with rage, a winged shadow looming over it, its presence heavy and ancient. I pulled, Essence Refinement unraveling it, and a wisp of sprite essence shimmered free, Fire and Light fused in a volatile dance. I focused deeper, channeling Essence Harmony, a gentle resonance aligning the sprite's residual magic with my own, and the air shimmered as I refined the essence further.
Magical parts emerged from the corpse, a pair of iridescent wings that pulsed with faint energy, a crystalline claw shimmering with arcane potential, and a vial of luminescent fairy dust that glittered like captured starlight.
I set these aside, then noticed two parchment scrolls tucked within the sprite's remains, their edges glowing with silvery runes. Snow's eyes lit up as she picked them up, "Spell scrolls of Fae magic," she said, voice eager, "one for Illusory Veil, the other for Whispering Wind, I can't wait to study them." Nearby, I refined another fallen Fae, its form dissolving into a swirl of light, and from its essence emerged a sleek magical quill, its feather tipped with a golden hue that shifted with every angle.
Chaucer bounded over, his tail flicking with excitement, "A quill that writes in any language I choose," he exclaimed, snatching it up, "this is a bard's dream, I'll compose epics in Elvish, Dwarvish, even Rat-speak!" I nodded, storing the loot, "Useful finds, let's keep moving." The moss pulsed red beneath us, then blackened, cracks spidering outward as a cold wind howled through the trees, carrying a distant roar, guttural, primal.
Hamish's Intimidation flared, a low growl rumbling in his throat, eyes narrowing, while Snow's Healing Mist drifted out, thicker now, soothing our cuts and steadying our nerves. Langston's gauntlet hummed louder, golden wires twitching as it siphoned stray magic, glowing faintly, and I stood, feeling the Sanctum's anger spike, a weight pressing on my skull. "I poked it," I said, grim, "it's awake now."
Chaucer vaulted clear, landing with a bow, "You're welcome, friends, tail risked, as ever." Langston poked his head from behind a boulder, eyes wide, sweat beading, "A talking rat, magical bugs, explosions, how?" I wiped sweat off my brow, patience thin, "It's a magical dungeon, Langston, focus on not dying."
Hamish laughed rough, sheathing a sword, "First man to debate magic itself." Chaucer leaned toward Langston, grin sharp, "Reality fraying yet?" "I'm ignoring you," Langston snapped, arms folding tighter, gauntlet sparking faintly.
Snow lowered her staff, catching her breath, "They'll adapt, they're testing us, probing weaknesses." I nodded, eyes sweeping the trees, the air pressing harder, shadows deepening, orbs dimming to a sickly flicker. "We keep moving, standing still makes us targets," I said, tone firm.
The forest turned alien as we pushed deeper, trees loomed taller, trunks twisting like coiled snakes, bark glistening wet. The moss dimmed to cold violet, each step sinking heavier, clinging to our boots, while my lungs burned, air thick as cloth, laced with a metallic tang. Snow slowed, knuckles white around her staff, "Something's watching," she murmured, eyes darting to the canopy.
Chaucer sniffed the air, bounce gone, ears twitching, "Scent's sharper now, angry, old." Hamish shifted his stance, jaw tight, hands flexing on his hilts, "What, the forest mad we squashed its pets?" I shook my head, gut twisting, "It's more than that, this Sanctum has a will, a mind, it's not happy we're here."
Langston's scoff cut through, brittle, "The forest has feelings?" "Yes," I said, meeting his stare, voice hard, "and it's pissed." Silence fell, heavy as the air, Snow's gaze flicked nervously to the shadows, Hamish squared his shoulders, a faint grin tugging his lips, even Chaucer's grin faltered, his tail still. "This won't let us out easy," I said, tone firm, "brace for anything."
Hamish flashed a crooked grin, blades catching the dim light, "Anything? My kind of promise." We regrouped near a clearing, catching our breath, the forest's lights swirled in strange patterns, spirals, jagged lines, as the air grew dense, prickling my skin like static. Something simmered beneath the glow, an irritation, a warning, like we'd overstayed our welcome.
Hamish slumped onto a boulder, rolling his shoulder with a wince, blood crusting on his sleeve, "This place is digging at me, crawling under my skin." Chaucer perched beside him, spinning a dagger, eyes sharp, "Under your hide, you say? Maybe it's your charm reflecting back."
Hamish glared, voice a growl, "One more peep, rat, and I'll chuck you into a fairy snare." "You'd miss my wit," Chaucer said, teeth glinting, "I'm your sunshine." "I'd miss you like a burr in my boot," Hamish shot back, turning away, flexing his hand.
Snow waved them off, sharp, "Enough, this Sanctum's hostile enough without bickering." She paused, staff glowing faint, casting shadows across her face, "There's a presence, old, aware, watching us, I feel it in the mana." I leaned against a tree, its bark too smooth, almost slick, "She's right, it's alive, testing us, pushing."
Langston paced a tight circle, snorting, gauntlet humming faintly, "Testing us? Feels like it's daring us to walk into its jaws." I crossed my arms, meeting his eyes, "Still wishing you'd stayed behind?" "No," he said, tone flat, adjusting his pack with a jerk, "just stunned you're all fine strolling into a magical death pit."
Hamish smirked, stretching his legs, wincing slightly, "We know our way around, you'll catch on, or you won't." We pressed on, the forest closing in, trees towered, their glow twisting colder, blues and purples bleeding into black. Each breath felt heavier, the air buzzing faintly, vibrating against my teeth, while Snow's staff pulsed as she scanned ahead, light flickering.
"Maybe the trees are shifting," she whispered, voice tight. "Let it wait," Hamish said, boots scuffing the moss, leaving dark streaks, "I'll carve through anything that steps up." Chaucer leapt to a branch, smirking down, tail flicking, "Hamish the tree-slayer, the forest trembles."
"Keep flapping, rat," Hamish growled, hand twitching toward a hilt, "and I'll use you as bait." I raised a hand, sharp, "Enough, this place is thinking, watching, stay sharp." A low thrum pulsed through the ground, steady and deep, rattling my bones, and ahead, a clearing opened, gnarled trees arched inward, branches clawing toward a pedestal at its heart.
Runes glowed on its surface, shifting under my gaze, alive with intent, while the trees creaked, bending closer, their tips brushing the stone. Runes flared red, static crackling in jagged arcs, and a winged shadow flickered near the pedestal, tall, jagged, its edges blurring, then vanished. My Insightful Vision caught a mana surge, massive, deep, a wellspring coiled tight.
"Trap," Hamish said, blades sliding free with a rasp. Snow edged closer, then stepped back, staff dimming, "A lure, draws you in, makes you curious." "Power beneath it," she added, retreating, voice hushed, "something big, ancient."
Chaucer's eyes gleamed, paws twitching, ears perked, "Treasure, perhaps?" "Or worse," Snow murmured, gripping her staff tighter, light flaring briefly. I rubbed my neck, exhaling slow, the air cold against my skin, "No touching, we skirt it, aim for the core."
We moved, the air thickening, pressing like a hand on my chest, shadows darkening, the thrum turning to a growl, low, resonant, shaking the moss. Snow's voice tensed, barely above a whisper, "Robert, it's angry." My jaw tightened, a chill crawling up my spine, sharp and electric, "Yeah, I feel it."
Langston's voice spiked, edged with panic, "Feel what?" "The Sanctum," I said, steady, turning to face him, "it hates us here." The ground shuddered violently, cutting off any reply, cracks split the moss, jagged and glowing with a sickly violet light, as the pedestal's runes flared brighter, spitting arcs of crimson energy. Vines erupted from the earth, thicker than before, their tips barbed and dripping with dark, viscous sap, lashing out with a hiss.
I dove aside, a vine grazing my arm, leaving a stinging welt, "Move!" I shouted, hands weaving a quick Prismatic Beam to sever a vine reaching for Snow. She dodged, staff flaring, but the ground beneath her buckled, throwing her off balance, Hamish charged forward, Double-Beat Strike slashing through two vines, their severed ends writhing like snakes.
Chaucer leapt high, Twin Wakizashi flashing, slicing a vine mid-strike, but more surged from the cracks, relentless, "It's not playing anymore!" he called, voice tight.
Langston, still shaken, was too slow, a vine coiled around his leg, yanking him off his feet with a yelp. He hit the ground hard, gauntlet sparking as he struggled to free himself, and before he could, the pedestal pulsed, a shard of runic energy, sharp, glowing red, shot from its surface, streaking through the air like a dagger. It struck Langston's shoulder with a sickening thud, pinning him to the moss, he screamed, the sound raw, blood welling fast around the shard as it pulsed with faint light.
"Langston!" Snow cried, scrambling to his side, staff glowing as she knelt. The vines surged again, but I spun Aetheric Weaving into a fiery barrier, flames roaring to hold them back, Hamish hacked through another tendril, his Toughness keeping him steady despite the sap burning his skin where it splattered. Langston's face twisted in pain, his gauntlet flickering erratically as he clutched his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers, "Get it out!" he gasped, voice breaking.
The shard's glow pulsed faster, its magic corrosive, burrowing, trying to siphon his energy through the wound. Snow's hands moved quickly, her staff radiating a soft blue light, "Hold still," she said, voice steady despite the chaos. She channeled Healing Mist, a cool, shimmering cloud enveloping Langston's shoulder, dulling the shard's glow and slowing the bleeding, though it resisted, fighting her magic as he groaned, teeth gritted.
Hamish dropped to a knee beside them, blades still drawn, eyes scanning for threats, "He's bleeding too much," he growled, then tore a strip from his cloak, pressing it hard against the wound. "Keep that mist going, Snow," he said, placing a hand on Langston's chest, his own Pain Suppression flaring, a faint, grounding warmth that dulled the agony enough for him to breathe steadier. "Stay with us, mate," Hamish added, voice gruff but firm, "you're not dying in a bloody fairy trap."
I kept the fiery barrier up, sweat beading on my brow as the vines hammered against it, their barbs splintering on impact. My Insightful Vision caught the winged shadow again, flickering above the pedestal, its form more solid now, tall, with jagged wings and eyes like burning coals. It hissed, a sound that scraped at my mind, then vanished as the pedestal's runes dimmed, the vines retreating into the cracks with a final, resentful shudder.
Snow exhaled, her mist thickening as she pulled the shard free with a careful tug, it dissolved into ash in her hand, leaving a raw, bloody gash. The mist sealed the wound, skin knitting just enough to stop the bleeding, though the scar would linger, Langston slumped, pale but breathing, his gauntlet steadying as it absorbed the last of the shard's stray magic.
Hamish helped him sit up, tying the makeshift bandage tight, "You're a mess, but you'll live," he said, clapping Langston's good shoulder, Langston winced, muttering, "I hate this place."
Chaucer dropped from a branch, wiping sap from his blades, "Welcome to the crew, physics boy, first scar's a badge." I let the barrier drop, chest heaving, the air still thick with the Sanctum's malice, the pedestal sat silent now, but its runes glowed faintly, a promise of more to come. Snow stood, staff dimming, her face pale but resolute, "It's not done with us," she said, voice low, "that shadow, it's watching."
Hamish's grin flashed, wild and fierce, blades glinting as he shifted his stance, "Good, I've been itching for a scrap."