04.04 – The Festival of Colors

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That night, Isla dreams of a long road, and of searching for something. She walks and walks until darkness falls and red eyes peer at her from all around, but she never stops and never finds what she’s looking for–whatever that even is.

She wakes to an odd shuffling sound, and has to blink a few times to find Lucian–in a new set of faded clothes that seem to be very worn-in–feverishly pacing back and forth.

“You, uh, okay there?” Isla asks. “Is everything okay?”

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04.03 – Oasis

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They keep walking, and the remainder of the walk is only noteworthy because Lucian appears to be happy. Considering recent events, it’s not exactly surprising.

Wherever they’ve landed, it’s hilly country, far enough out of the mountains to be mostly grasslands, but not far enough out of the mountains to actually be flat. If Isla looks out into the distance, she can see more of them, towering up into the sky.

It’s not an easy walk. The path isn’t well-used and Isla has to duck to avoid low branches here and there and the way is more uphill than downhill. More striking than the difficulty of their walk is the sheer life around them. There’s crickets and birds and rustling in the green plants and starbursts of flowers scattered among rough stones and dirt. It’s such a strange shift from the utter silence and lifelessness of the palace.


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04.02 – Crash Landing

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They drift in silence. Isla stares out over the side of the vessel and the ground flying past below them. They’re getting close to the ground now.

“Uh, Lucian?” Isla asks. “How are we going to land?”

Lucian glances over the side. “Good question. Sure wish I knew the answer.”

“Lucian, that’s not helpful. We’re getting close to a forest, there’s no open space to land,” Isla says. “If we don’t do something, we’re going to crash.”

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04.01 – Residuals

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The vessel sails swiftly and smoothly through the air, and the ground is so far away that it seems to barely move beneath them, hundreds and hundreds of meters below. It’s so far down that Isla can’t even imagine the height.

Isla’s not sure where they’re going, or if it’s the direction they want to be going, but they haven’t got that many options since they don’t really know how to steer the vessel and she can’t get a candle flame to stay lit in the wind, much less cast a spell with it. So they sail out past the mountains and over the bright green flatlands criss-crossed with shining blue rivers.

It doesn’t really matter where they’re going, as long as it’s somewhere else.

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