April 1, 2025.
Location: 15 miles west of Doras Dagda, Scottish Highlands.
Robert led his team into the Fairy Sanctum, shoulders tense, senses sharp. Crossing the portal stung, cold silk brushing his skin before biting like needles. One moment, his 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 Robert's chest, the magic thick, urging them to leave. "Stick together," he said, his voice cutting the stillness. "This place will split us."
Robert saw Chaucer dart ahead, paws skimming the moss, grinning. "Curious spot, sweet as honey, itching to kick us out," Chaucer said.
Hamish scowled, hands near his twin short swords, chosen for tighter swings over his broadsword. "Not keen on a forest thinking it's a bard's dream," he muttered.
Snow stayed close, her staff's amber glow lighting wary eyes. "It's beautiful, but breathing, watching," she murmured.
Robert saw Langston trail, arms crossed, muttering, "Light bending without refraction, absurd." He kicked the moss.
Robert shot him a look. "Langston, it's magic. Ditch the physics, keep up," he said.
A rustling stole Langston's retort, soft like leaves, no breeze stirring. They froze.
Robert saw Hamish grip his sword hilts. Snow's staff flared brighter. "What is that?" she whispered, her breath hitching.
Chaucer crouched behind a root, eyes glinting. "Sprites, in the trees, watching," he said.
Langston snorted. "Sprites? What's next, fairy tales?"
Chaucer's teeth flashed. "Wait till they knot you in vines, strip your pride bare," he retorted.
The rustling sharpened, orbs swirled, and Robert saw winged figures drop from branches, small, glowing, their laughter a venomous chime. One hovered close, its 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," he said.
The sprite hissed, whistling shrill. Dozens of them swarmed, their tiny hands flaring with sparks. Robert stepped forward, wind whipping from his palms to scatter the first wave. "Defensive positions! Snow, shield us. Langston, behind Hamish and me."
Langston ducked, grumbling, "Meat shields, perfect."
Robert saw sprites strike 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, his slashes landing hard, first clipping a sprite, then crushing it to ash. His toughness held as sparks grazed his arms.
Robert saw Chaucer dance between foes, wakizashi slicing with precision. Robert's 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!" he roared.
Sprites dove low, claws sparking at knees, others lobbing blinding light bursts. Robert saw Snow flinch, her shield cracking. She exhaled a cool mist, soothing the sting, her 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.
Robert wove aetheric threads, Aetheric Weaving spinning wind and fire into a roaring vortex. It sucked sprites into its fiery heart, shrieks fading. "Herd them!" he 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 their eyes. Robert 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, their breaths ragged. Robert knelt by a fallen sprite, its glow fading. "Let's see your secrets," he said, hands glowing with Aetheric Weaving. Insightful Vision flared in his 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.
He pulled gently, letting Essence Refinement do its work. A wisp of essence shimmered, Fire and Light fused in a volatile dance. With Essence Harmony, Robert aligned its magic to his, air shimmering. The corpse yielded iridescent wings pulsing faintly, a crystalline claw with arcane potential, and a vial of fairy dust glittering like starlight. His combat class stirred, sensing potential in the materials.
Robert focused, Essence Refinement weaving the wings' energy into his body, curious to see what would happen. A rush hit, his limbs lighter, movements sharper, arcane precision tingling in his fingers. A temporary Fae Swiftness buff appeared as an icon in his vision, boosting speed and spell accuracy. Well, that's super convenient, he thought. He could've imbued his shillelagh with fiery strikes, but this fight needed agility. The items turned to ash, blowing away in an unseen current.
Two parchment scrolls glowed with silvery runes. Robert saw Snow's eyes light up. "Spell scrolls of Fae magic," she said eagerly. "One for illusions, another for wind. I'll study them."
Another Fae yielded a sleek quill, feather tipped with shifting gold. Robert saw Chaucer bound over, tail flicking. "A quill that writes in any language!" he exclaimed, snatching it. "I'll compose epics in Elvish, Dwarvish, Rat-speak!"
Robert 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. Robert saw Langston's gauntlet hum, wires twitching, siphoning stray magic. The Sanctum's anger spiked, pressing Robert's skull. "I poked it," he said grimly. "It's awake now."
Chaucer vaulted clear, landing with a bow. "You're welcome, friends, tail risked, as ever."
Robert saw Langston peek from a boulder, sweat beading. "A talking rat, magical bugs, explosions, how?" he muttered.
Robert wiped his 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 her breath. "They'll adapt, probing weaknesses."
Robert nodded, his eyes sweeping the 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. Robert's lungs burned, the air thick, metallic.
Snow slowed, knuckles white around her staff. "Something's watching," she murmured, eyes on the canopy.
Chaucer sniffed, his bounce gone. "Scent's sharper, angry, old," he said.
Hamish shifted, jaw tight. "Forest mad we squashed its pets?" he asked.
Robert shook his head, gut twisting. The Sanctum's mind seethed, testing their every step.
Langston scoffed, brittle. "The forest has feelings?"
"Yes," Robert said, voice hard. "And it's pissed."
Silence fell, heavy. Robert saw Snow's gaze flick to shadows, Hamish square his shoulders, Chaucer's grin falter. "This won't let us out easy," he said. "Brace for anything."
Hamish flashed a crooked grin, blades glinting. "Anything? My kind of promise."
They regrouped near a clearing, breath ragged from the last ambush. The forest's lights swirled in spirals, air prickling like static. Something simmered, a warning they'd overstayed.
Hamish slumped onto a boulder, blood crusting his sleeve. "This place crawls under my skin," he muttered.
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 sharply. "Enough. This Sanctum's hostile." Her staff glowed faint, shadows crossing her face. "An old presence, aware, in the mana."
Robert leaned against a slick tree. "She's right. It's alive."
Langston paced, gauntlet humming. "Feels like it's daring us into its jaws."
Robert met his eyes. "Still wishing you'd stayed behind?"
"No," Langston said flatly, 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 Robert's 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," he said.
Chaucer leapt to a branch, smirking. "Hamish the tree-slayer, forest trembles."
Robert raised a hand sharply. "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. Robert's 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," she said, her voice hushed. "Power beneath, ancient."
Chaucer's eyes gleamed. "Treasure, perhaps?"
Snow gripped her staff. "Or worse."
Robert rubbed his 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."
Robert's jaw tightened, a chill crawling his spine. "Yeah, I feel it."
Langston's voice spiked. "Feel what?"
"The Sanctum," Robert 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.
Robert dove aside, a vine grazing his arm, leaving a welt. "Move!" he shouted, his 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, shooting 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.
Robert 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 Robert's mind, then vanished as runes dimmed, vines retreating with a shudder.
Langston slumped, pale, breathing, his gauntlet absorbing the shard's magic. Hamish tied the bandage. "You're a mess, but you'll live."
Chaucer wiped sap from his blades. "First scar's a badge, physics boy."
Robert dropped the barrier, chest heaving, Fae Swiftness still tingling in his 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."