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 brushing my skin before biting like needles. One moment, my boots crunched cliffside rock; the next, a world twisted reality into knots. The forest sprawled endlessly, leaves overhead shifting in strange colors, catching light like spilled oil.
Moss glowed underfoot, restless, shifting with each step. Drifting orbs cast uneasy shadows, out of sync with their glow. Beauty laced with danger pressed my chest, the magic thick, urging us to leave. "Stick together," I said, voice cutting the stillness. "This place will split us."
Chaucer darted ahead, paws skimming the moss, grinning. "Curious spot, sweet as honey, itching to kick us out." Hamish scowled, hands near his twin short swords, chosen over his broadsword for tighter swings. "Not keen on a forest thinking it's a bard's dream." Snow stayed close, her staff's amber glow lighting wary eyes. "It's beautiful, but breathing, watching," she murmured.
Langston trailed, arms crossed, muttering, "Light bending without refraction, absurd." He kicked the moss. I shot him a look. "Langston, it's magic. Ditch the physics, keep up." A rustling stole his retort, soft like leaves, no breeze stirring. We froze.
Hamish gripped his sword hilts. Snow's staff flared brighter. "What is that?" she whispered, breath hitching. Chaucer crouched behind a root, eyes glinting. "Sprites, in the trees, watching." Langston snorted. "Sprites? What's next, fairy tales?"
Chaucer's teeth flashed. "Wait till they knot you in vines, strip your pride bare." The rustling sharpened, orbs swirled, and winged figures dropped from branches, small, glowing, laughter a venomous chime. One hovered close, angular face grinning, 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. Dozens swarmed, 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, grumbling, "Meat shields, perfect." Sprites struck with flashes and shrieks. Snow raised her staff, an icy shield snapping up to block clawing dives. She thrust forward, ice shards ripping through, shredding wings. Hamish charged, slashes landing hard, first clipping a sprite, second crushing it to ash.
His toughness held as sparks grazed his arms. Chaucer danced between foes, wakizashi slicing with precision. My Prismatic Beam surged, fire and air fusing into a searing lance, scattering half the swarm. Vines burst from the moss, snaring Hamish's legs. He grunted, hacking with one blade, pinning a sprite mid-lunge.
"Bloody tricks!" Hamish roared. Sprites dove low, claws sparking at knees, others lobbing blinding light bursts. Snow flinched, her shield cracking. She exhaled a cool mist, soothing the sting, staff glowing hot. Chaucer spun, blades a blur. "Pesky glowflies!" he called, stabbing one, but three swarmed, claws raking his flank.
Vines thickened around Hamish's ankles, thorns biting deep. Two sprites clawed his forearms, blood welling dark. Snow's shield shattered, ice raining down. She stumbled, conjuring a weaker barrier, gasping, "They're too fast." Her ice shards clipped wings but missed half their mark.
I wove aetheric threads, Aetheric Weaving spinning wind and fire into a roaring vortex. It sucked sprites into its fiery heart, shrieks fading. "Herd them!" I shouted, chest heaving. Snow nodded, her shield faltering. Chaucer leapt onto a log, arms wide. "Come, glittering pests! My grandmother's fleas bite harder!" he taunted, drawing fury.
He twisted, blades slashing, but a claw grazed his flank. Hamish chuckled dryly. "That mouth's a beacon." Snow covered Chaucer, shards flying. A dozen sprites hovered high, light bursts searing our eyes. I blinked through tears, hands weaving faster. The vortex swelled, crackling, then collapsed, swallowing the swarm. Charred sparks rained, sizzling on the forest floor.
Silence fell, our breaths ragged. I knelt by a fallen sprite, glow fading. "Let's see your secrets," I said, hands glowing with Aetheric Weaving. Insightful Vision flared in my left eye, tracing its mana core, a knot of fire and light. Memories hit: a rune-covered pedestal pulsing with rage, a winged shadow looming, heavy, ancient.
I pulled, Essence Refinement unraveling the sprite. A wisp of essence shimmered, Fire and Light fused in a volatile dance. With Essence Harmony, I aligned its magic to mine, air shimmering. The corpse yielded iridescent wings pulsing faintly, a crystalline claw with arcane potential, and a vial of fairy dust glittering like starlight. My combat class stirred, sensing potential in the materials.
I focused, Essence Refinement weaving the wings' energy into my body, curious to see what would happen. A rush hit, my limbs lighter, movements sharper, arcane precision tingling in my fingers. A temporary Fae Swiftness buff appeared as a small icon in the lower right of my vision, boosting speed and spell accuracy. Well, that's super convenient. I suppose I could've imbued my shillelagh, charging it with fiery strikes, but this fight needed agility. Unfortunately, the items turned to useless ash and blew away in an unseen current. Two parchment scrolls glowed with silvery runes. Snow's eyes lit up. "Spell scrolls of Fae magic," she said, eager. "One for illusions, another for wind. I'll study them."
Another Fae yielded a sleek quill, feather tipped with shifting gold. Chaucer bounded over, tail flicking. "A quill that writes in any language!" he exclaimed, snatching it. "I'll compose epics in Elvish, Dwarvish, Rat-speak!" I nodded, storing loot. "Useful finds. Keep moving." The moss pulsed red, then blackened, cracks spidering. A cold wind howled, carrying a guttural roar, primal, deep.
Hamish growled low, eyes narrowing. Snow's mist thickened, soothing cuts, steadying nerves. Langston's gauntlet hummed, wires twitching, siphoning stray magic. The Sanctum's anger spiked, pressing 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 peeked from a boulder, sweat beading. "A talking rat, magical bugs, explosions, how?" I wiped 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, gauntlet sparking. Snow lowered her staff, catching breath. "They'll adapt, probing weaknesses."
I nodded, eyes sweeping trees. Shadows deepened, orbs dimming to a sickly flicker. "Keep moving. Standing still makes us targets." The forest turned alien, trees looming, trunks twisting like snakes, bark glistening wet. Moss dimmed to cold violet, steps sinking, clinging to boots. My lungs burned, air thick, metallic.
Snow slowed, knuckles white around her staff. "Something's watching," she murmured, eyes on the canopy. Chaucer sniffed, bounce gone. "Scent's sharper, angry, old." Hamish shifted, jaw tight. "Forest mad we squashed its pets?" I shook my head, gut twisting. The Sanctum's mind seethed, testing our every step.
Langston scoffed, brittle. "The forest has feelings?" "Yes," I said, voice hard. "And it's pissed." Silence fell, heavy. Snow's gaze flicked to shadows, Hamish squared his shoulders, Chaucer's grin faltered. "This won't let us out easy," I said. "Brace for anything."
Hamish flashed a crooked grin, blades glinting. "Anything? My kind of promise." We regrouped near a clearing, catching breath. The forest's lights swirled in spirals, air prickling like static. Something simmered, a warning we'd overstayed. Hamish slumped onto a boulder, blood crusting his sleeve. "This place crawls under my skin."
Chaucer perched beside him, spinning a dagger. "Under your hide? Maybe your charm reflecting back." Hamish glared. "One more peep, rat, I'll chuck you into a fairy snare." Chaucer's teeth glinted. "You'd miss my wit. I'm your sunshine."
Snow waved them off, sharp. "Enough. This Sanctum's hostile." Her staff glowed faint, shadows crossing her face. "An old presence, aware, in the mana." I leaned against a slick tree. "She's right. It's alive." Langston paced, gauntlet humming. "Feels like it's daring us into its jaws."
I met his eyes. "Still wishing you'd stayed behind?" "No," he said, flat, adjusting his pack. "Just stunned you're strolling into a death pit." Hamish smirked, wincing. "You'll catch on, or you won't." The forest closed in, glow twisting colder, blues bleeding black.
Each breath buzzed against my teeth. Snow's staff pulsed, light flickering. "Maybe the trees shift," she whispered. Hamish's boots scuffed moss, leaving streaks. "I'll carve through anything." Chaucer leapt to a branch, smirking. "Hamish the tree-slayer, forest trembles."
I raised a hand, sharp. "Enough. This place thinks. Stay sharp." A thrum pulsed through the ground, rattling bones. A clearing opened, gnarled trees arching toward a pedestal, runes glowing with intent. They flared red, static crackling. My Insightful Vision caught a massive mana surge, coiled tight.
"Trap," Hamish said, blades sliding free. Snow stepped back, staff dimming. "A lure, draws you in." Her voice hushed. "Power beneath, ancient." Chaucer's eyes gleamed. "Treasure, perhaps?" Snow gripped her staff. "Or worse."
I rubbed my neck, exhaling. "No touching. Skirt it, aim for the core." The air thickened, shadows darkening, thrum turning to a growl. Snow's voice tensed. "Robert, it's angry." My jaw tightened, chill crawling my spine. "Yeah, I feel it."
Langston's voice spiked. "Feel what?" "The Sanctum," I said, turning. "It hates us." The ground shuddered, cracks splitting moss, glowing violet. The pedestal's runes spat crimson energy. Vines erupted, barbed, dripping dark sap, lashing with a hiss.
I dove aside, a vine grazing my arm, leaving a welt. "Move!" I shouted, Prismatic Beam severing a vine reaching for Snow. She dodged, staff flaring, but the ground buckled, throwing her off balance. Hamish slashed through two vines, ends writhing. Chaucer's wakizashi flashed, slicing a vine. "It's not playing!" he called.
Langston was slow. A vine coiled his leg, yanking him down with a yelp. The pedestal pulsed, a runic shard, glowing red, shot like a dagger. It struck his shoulder, pinning him. He screamed, blood welling around the shard's pulsing light. "Langston!" Snow cried, scrambling to his side, staff glowing.
I spun Aetheric Weaving into a fiery barrier, holding vines back. Hamish hacked another, sap burning his skin. Langston clutched his shoulder, blood seeping. "Get it out!" he gasped. The shard's magic burrowed, siphoning energy. Snow channeled a shimmering mist, dulling the glow, slowing bleeding, though it resisted.
Hamish pressed a torn cloak strip against the wound. "Keep that mist going," he growled, steadying Langston. "Stay with us, mate. No dying in a fairy trap." Snow pulled the shard; it dissolved to ash, leaving a raw gash. Her mist sealed it, skin knitting just enough.
The winged shadow flickered above the pedestal, solid, jagged wings, burning eyes. It hissed, scraping my mind, then vanished as runes dimmed, vines retreating with a shudder. Langston slumped, pale, breathing, gauntlet absorbing shard's magic. Hamish tied the bandage. "You're a mess, but you'll live."
Chaucer wiped sap from blades. "First scar's a badge, physics boy." I dropped the barrier, chest heaving, Fae Swiftness still tingling in my limbs. The pedestal sat silent, runes faintly glowing, promising more. Snow stood, face pale. "That shadow's watching," she said, low.
Hamish's grin flashed, wild. "Good. I'm itching for a scrap."