Frozen Fractals Team 2

The Glacial Approach:

Once again, Rovan found himself flung into the far north of icy realms. But this time, he came prepared.

Three layers, fur, mittens and a heavy woolen cloak with the hood pulled over his face might not exactly be the height of Allirian fashion, but it would keep his ears and fingers from snapping off in the cold. During his last excursion this far into the frozen tears of the Spine, he had learned his lesson -- and the value of keeping one's extremities warm.

But there was one chill he couldn't do away with. A splinter near his heart; the chip of Eldifryst that had lodged itself in his flesh. A parting gift from Strivogg, that tricky guardian. Granting him some curious powers, yes, but also new, intolerable pains and a dwindling credit to his health that was rather less welcome. Even as they approached the gates of the ice palace, Rovan tested his newfound powers, willing circles to form in the hardened ice and snow before his moving hand. They did; but like clockwork, pain lanced in his heart, and no amount of rubbing his chest seemed to do away with it.

No physician had been able to aid him. No alchemist capable of cracking this puzzle. Not even priests, normally so full of promises, could grant him any consolation.

So he had but one place to seek out. A palace in the heart of winter, near where he had picked up this curse. Perhaps the ancient magic within could cure him; or at the very least, provide him with some useful answers.

Sniffing in the cold, Rovan turned to his companions, face near disappearing into a slit for his pine-green eyes between several scarves and the lip of his hood.

"Lovely weather." Breath steamed out from his hood and was promptly snatched by the gale. "Friendly locals," his eye drifted to a malformed phantasm forming in the icy air, seeming to scream silently before disintigrating in the blizzard. "And a view to die for. Now who wouldn't want a palatial residence here?"

Lilette Blackbriar
Thalos Mirecant

Thalos nodded at the other man, his ponytail whipping wildly in the gale. He raised his blindfolded eyes towards his companions, sensing their energy and general appearance. Tugging at his own dark brown bear-fur coat, Thalos took a singular step forward, snow and ice alike crunching beneath his weight.

"Introductions?" He asked -- to no one in particular -- in a solemn, deep tone.

The only real reason he was here was because he heard he could claim artifacts and treasure. Exactly what his father had been trying to collect for all these long years.
Surely, this would be a good haul... As long as they could make it.

Lilette Blackbriar
Rovan Ravenhill

Frozen winds whipped snow-white hair as the armored figure leaned over that glacial edge.

She groaned quietly, her stomach sinking at the view. Turning to the others made for a reprieve at least, though the elf knew nothing about them, nor they her. Her features were covered by the black-steel visage of her angular helm, whilst her body was covered in what few pieces of Godewyn's armor fit her slender frame.

Though ramshackle the knightess may be, she nevertheless marched proudly to her companions' sides, gauntleted fingers coiled tightly around Nightspell—a greatsword of emril steel.

"Tis the ice what bothers me more than the weather." she replied to Rovan.

Her voice was soft, youthful even.

It was the blindfolded man who spoke next, attracting the slit helm towards himself, though sometimes it seemed something silver glinted at him beneath. She craned her head to one side like a curious animal before speaking.

"Ah, mine name is of little importance," she said nervously.

"But if thou shalt knowest me, let it by deed; as a Knight of House Blackbriar, or a doctor if thou'st require."

Lady 'Blackbriar' introduced herself with a well practiced curtsy at odds with her attire.

---

Rovan matched the curtsey with a near automatic bow of his own, hand over his ailing heart, all while his mind worked.

House Blackbriar . . . House Blackbriar?

Where had he heard that name from?

It tugged at his memory, but didn't quite find purchase. Ah, no matter. He could worry about lineages and heraldry once in the snug warmth of an inn; preferably within reach of a generous bar and a roaring fireplace.

"A knight and a doctor? My, an inflictor of wounds and a treater of them in the very same platemail. Well, well, I should count myself fortunate being in such esteemed company. It looks like old Grangomelle selects his agents with astute observance. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Blackbriar. I am Rovan Ravenhill; scholar, scribe, gentleman of means--" he waved his gloved hand, as if batting off a potential stream of other titles for himself. Eventually, the blindfolded man snagged his eye, a twitch of brief worry flickering from his gaze. Hopefully old Grangomelle hadn't placed him in the company of deranged lunatics and murderers. Gods knew adventurers could be a motley lot. "But never you mind that. I'm sure our deeds shall speak for us all, indeed. And you must be, ahh . . ."

Rovan twirled his hand, pretending not to have completely forgotten the other man's name, allowing him to finish his sentence.

Thalos Mirecant
Lilette Blackbriar

"Ah, the pleasure is all mine." she said warmly.

Perhaps a bit much for a man she'd only just heard of, but he seemed a gentleman and that was more than could be said of most adventurers.

The pseudo-knight stepped forward to speak but nearly lost her footing as the ice shifted beneath their feet. It cracked and split, a jagged maw of empty black and cerulean depths of ever darkening shades opening behind her. From those depths came the echoes of crackling and screams of unknown origin.

Lilette hadn't time to look, thin lines snaked through the ice like crystalline webbing, her head having slammed hard against it. The steel around her head rang, and cold wind howled by to herald the startling realization;

She was falling.

"no, nononono!"

The world was powdered white as the glacier they were all standing atop crumbled and spilt towards the castle bridge, a rolling hill of icy chunks the size of farmhouses and snowy mist.

By the time she thought to stop herself Lilette was already well beyond the point of a lethal fall. She still held Nightspell by the blade, slamming it with all her might into the last stable ice remaining with such force that it cracked in a jagged line almost to the top again. It was only by her unusual strength that the sudden stop did not break her arm nor send her tumbling into the abyss.

The snow gently settled till the only mist left were her icy breaths. A wide eyed look down told her the castle bridge was within jumping distance, and another look up told her she'd surely be paste had she not stopped herself.

"Ro-Rovan?" she called out.

"...anyone?!"

---

"Here," Rovan's voice piped out weakly from up above Lilette.

He stood on a foothold by his own design; having arrested his downward slide by shaping the ice to catch his fur-covered boots. His chest was heaving through all his layers, up and down, shocked by the sudden overturn of his world, mittens planted against the ice wall on his back, willing himself not to tumble into an endless fall.

His breath and mouth settled into one, pressed line; a long exhalation to reclaim control over his senses and nerves.

At least the armed physician had made it. One of his eyes widened in incredulity, spying the crack that had traveled all the way up past him from her black blade. Just how strong was she?

Nevermind, he wouldn't complain. They needed all the strength they could get. Especially now that their blindfolded companion seemed to have disappeared. Fallen down into the abyss? Hopefully not. He didn't want to think about that possibility. Didn't even want to so much as peer at that horrifying, endless fall.

"One moment," Rovan called down, then concentrated on the ice below him. He held one hand to his chest, as if willing the shard of Eldifryst not to pierce further into his squishy organs, while he extended the other, shaping the ice to follow the architecture of his mind.

A primitive bridge crackled and cracked into existence, drawn from the deeper recesses of glacial ice behind him. Like a tongue jutting with icy stalagmites, it crossed the misty air and connected with the bridge ahead. It might have been jumping distance -- but Rovan didn't trust in how far he could jump wearing all his winter clothes.

Dimples twitching from the pain and chill in his chest, he formed a few steps down towards Lilette, so that she might reach his bridge.

"There. That should hold."

I hope, he finished internally.
Lilette Blackbriar
Thalos Mirecant

"Unfortunate."

In one breath of air, Thalos was spent. He had to rely on his magic when his physical efforts didn't add up to much of anything. Quickly, he raised a hand to draw out the proper evocation, his other hand trying to find any purchase on the cracking ice. His legs pushed himself up as he finished the spell, a black rune suspended in mid-air in front of his face before dissipating. Immediately, his body was weaker, his mind a little slower, his senses a little duller. But the magic worked. He floated there, holding on to ice with a few fingers, the rest of his body lifting up into the air.

Eventually, he was completely in the air, his magic carrying his weak form up and closer to the bridge.

He needed his amulet. And he needed it soon, or his body would decompose entirely. It already took so much from him to do one spell on his own accord...

He was not used to casting spells without his devices.

Now he had reached the bridge, feet finding ground as quick as they could as the magic slowly began to die down. He seemed normal, but anything beyond picking up a barrel would break him. He looked to the others. What could he do now?

Oh. The intellectual price was already draining him. The amulet was in his pocket. His hands went into his pants compartments... And as soon as he touched the stone, his body was refreshed again, and his senses became sharper.

That was more like it.

He didn't ask for help afterwards. But he stood there, watching the two figure out what they should do. If they needed his help, they would ask him.

For now, he'd wait. He was good at that, if not good at physically helping.

Lilette Blackbriar
Rovan Ravenhill

"Oh thank Astra." she breathed.

Lilette dared to glance downward again, flinching at her mistake immediately.

It was fortunate then that Rovan's crackling display was impressive enough to wrest her gaze instead, lest thought of her imminent demise give her cause to reject what little blood she'd fed upon to get here in the first place.

Rovan Ravenhill said:

"One moment," Rovan called down.

Click to expand...

"Ah, worry not... I shan't go anywhere." scoffed Lilette.

She routinely flexed her free hand with each passing moment, gauntleted fingers curling and unfurling more and more as the icy bridge crept downward until her feet safely touched solid "ground", to which she sighed in relief.

Soon her sword was yanked from the glacial wall, and Lilette scuttled to Rovan's side.

"Many thanks. Now, where is-"

The armored woman turned her gaze towards the glacier, recoiling a half step at just how far they were from the top now.

Finding Thalos' silhouette proved easy against the skyline.

"There!" she pointed, then waved at the flying man.

"Pleased to see thee in good health, ser!" she called out to him.

Within moments however, the screams began anew, causing the girl's ears to ring so violently she clutched at her helm. Her pained growls were then drowned by new voices in the cacophonous choir. From the chasm, wispy figures began to ascend like spectral smoke, dozens of them swarming towards the party.

Lilette took a frightened step back, but nevertheless hefted her sword in a defensive posture.

"Stay thee behind me! I shalt repay thine protection!"

"Go! Let us make for the gate!" she shouted.

---

Rovan didn't need to be told twice. He might be able to shape ice, but he very much doubted he had anything in his arsenal against those incorporeal abominations. Besides his dagger of Eldifryst left to him by Tafna Gringhook, though he didn't want to get close enough to test its strength. Their screams dug into the marrow of his bones and sent involuntary shivers up his spine, assaulting his body as well as any arctic blizzard. Yes, he was definitely going to keep his distance.

So he did what any sensible gentleman would in his situation. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

The only problem with the bridge was that it was made of ice. Indeed, it was cause for much stumbling and tripping; his cloak snapping wildly in the wind, hood blowing off to reveal slicked-back strands of raven-black hair. He nearly made it to the other side, before the harsh blow of a gale and the sudden, unwanted appearance of a misty wraith — dark mouth yawned so far it could probably swallow him whole — sent him reeling, toppling over his balance.

Rovan teetered backwards, arms swinging wildly, then careened himself forwards; landing as long as he was across his own bridge, half his torso jutting out one end, wobbling legs sticking out the other end, stomach perched on the middle. He clutched the bridge for dear life and continued forward at a staggered crawl. Ungraceful, but better than dying.

Nearly there, nearly there!

However, the wraith that had scared him off his feet now descended upon him, ripping through his cloak with surprisingly sharp claws of disembodied shards and particles of ice, only held together by whatever magic gave it unlife. A nasty cold gash cut through his thick cloak and three layers of cloth, just about scratching the skin beneath.

It seemed his bundles of clothing had not only shielded him from the cold, but armoured him against grievous injury.

A similar pair of wraiths flew up for Thalos, meeting in the middle to rip their claws into him as well. More rose about Rovan, preparing to set upon his prone form like wolves -- and similar ones shot up at Lilette from the abyss.

Thalos Mirecant
Lilette Blackbriar

Well, wasn't that great? Although, to be fair, Thalos knew there was going to be danger when he signed up for this. Quickly, with one hand in his pocket and grasping the amulet, he takes a step back. That only gained him half a second or so more before the wraith's claws reached him.

But half a second was all he needed.

The absence of needing to draw a rune aided him, and that was one thing he greatly appreciated. One blast of force. Not fire, earth, wind, etc. Just a moving force of energy, pushing the wraiths so hard they flung backwards and then dissipated into snow.

Well, phew, that was cl-

And then there's a claw dragging across his back. He doesn't have time to scream, doesn't have time to react. Instead, he simply turns with his arm above his head. One moment, there was nothing in his hand.

And in the next, he held a massive sword made of dark and force magic, pulsing purple like a heartbeat etched into darkness. Slammed straight into the wraith's shoulder, and just like that, it's a pile of snow.

But now he has other problems. He's bleeding profusely from his back, and already his clothes are soaked. Unfortunately for him, he knew of no healing magic.

He grips the amulet in his pocket even tighter to generate more magic, and fire emits from his finger. Quickly he drops to a knee and puts the flame on the wound.

A scream erupts from his throat, but this is the only way to stop the bleeding quickly. Already, another group of wraiths are rushing towards him from the direction of the castle, and he can feel the gale winds become stronger by the second.

Damn it.

Lilette Blackbriar
Rovan Ravenhill

Rovan pressed his eyes shut. This was it. This was the end for them. More fool him to have come here. The unified shrieks of wraiths overcame his world, setting upon him.

The air parted above him before a heavy weight. Ice shattered around him - right, front, left - spraying particles over him. He jerked up just in time to see a black blade arcing out of his vision, followed by a trail of the darkest smoke he had ever seen.

Where his enemies had been before, nothing but disintigrating ice drizzled back into the abyss. He turned to find Lilette standing above him, one open gauntlet reached out for him. Fur mitten clasped steel, and the knight pulled him back up, helmet offering a quick nod.

Thalos was hovering in the air, bleeding, yet spitting magic. But the enemies overwhelmed him, far above the two.

Without word, Rovan reacted before his thinking mind could catch up to his instincts. He drew upon the power of Eldifryst again, warping a portion of the bridge, gathering the sleet and snow from their felled enemies to raise Lilette on a thin plateau. Frost magic swirled around his gloved hands as he shot the knight upward, some uncanny balance of hers allowing her to stay put -- and get in range for another hefty swing.

The enemies before Thalos scattered into nothing before her obsidian blade. And Rovan waved at the two from down below.

"To the gate!"

In a mad dash, they rushed the palace gates, this time managing to cross the abyss. More creatures came howling up from below, but the three adventurers' legs and desperate spells outpaced these spectral hounds, Lilette bull-rushed through the gate with a raised, plated arm and shoulder, the bars weakened enough by Thalos' arcane efforts to smash wide open in a shower of frost. Soon, the jagged sculptures of the Winter Palace manifested through the sleet and an icy courtyard unfurled its claws at them. Rovan's vision bounced madly before him as he ran, much like galloping on a horse, unable to focus on any single feature of the frostbattered courtyard -- only the mount in this case happened to be his own hardworking legs and huffing lungs.

A door of solid ice awaited them, barring entrance to the palace itself. Howls of the ice-borne undead chased them. No time for subtlety. It was his turn to weaken their barrier to entry, and in the span they had run, the pain had at least receded from his chest.

He gnashed his teeth from the effort and made a whiplash of his hand, flogging the barrier like it was some insubordinate guard. A crack splintered its features. Black sorcery swirled around Lilette's long greatsword, bending like the fire of a torch in a runner's hand, absorbing tiny icicles in its umbral spell. In three long strides, she assaulted the wall, tip of her blade travelling in a long arc over her shoulders and catapulting down on the ice.

It splintered into thousands of shards, an explosion of icy shrapnel that Rovan and Thalos had to cover themselves against, while the knight allowed her armour to absorb the kinetic barrage. Rapidly, they charged in, while the blizzard behind them filled with the hungry faces of those doomed to haunt the glacier.

In this hall, Rovan forced himself to work through the pain now lancing at his heart and seal up the hole they had left behind them. After his work came to a crackling end, he collapsed against a nearby wall of smooth stone, feeling his chest burn with pain, paralysing his right arm -- and spreading.

Thalos Mirecant
Lilette Blackbriar

Time moved quickly and vision swam. She'd set upon Rovan's attackers with ferocious power and the wild fury of an animal cornered, cold breath freezing inside her helm. The mage was practically yanked to his feet when he took her hand, such was her unusual strength.

A curt nod was all she managed.

She turned in search of Thalos whose form was little more than a dark blur against the grey sky, hounded by wraiths and something else, fire?

Ice shifted beneath her feet and she knelt stay atop, sword over her shoulders in one hand, clawing the edge for support with the other. By the time she understood, the ice had reached Thalos and the wraiths, at which she swung in wide arcs with but one hand.

Rovan Ravenhill said:

"To the gate!"

Click to expand...

She huffed and slide down on claws she didn't know she had, sharp things that retracted soon as her feet touched solid ground again, and the rest was a blur.

She'd smashed through one gate with the party, cut through another, or maybe it was only one? It didn't matter, she stood alert at the sorcerer's back until he'd sealed the gates behind them, after which they both fell. He against the wall, she on her knee.

Mist shot through the slit of her helm, the waste of cold air entering dead lungs out of habit.

Only now did that infernal ringing soften.

"Did... did'st everyone make it?" she winced.

---

"Yes," Rovan gasped, pushing himself a little further up against the ice wall. "Yes, I think we did . . ."

He looked to his right, where he expected to see Thalos' blindfolded face and long whiplash of a braid. Nothing. Just a blank wall.

"Oh, well -- nevermind. We seem to have lost our flying compatriot." Though one could never be sure if he might loom right around the next corner. Rovan scrambled to push himself up; but a needle of pain pressed into his chest at the movement.

"It seems -- agh -- it seems we will have to press onward without him. Unfortunate." He fell back against the wall, allowing the pain to subside a smidgen. Gently, he knocked the back of his head against the wall in flaccid frustration. Already the cold was creeping in through his floor-bound legs; but at least they found themselves sheltered from the torrent of icy wind and wights.

A different kind of chill seeped in the side of his breast. From the shard, he knew, layered below his skin. An internal cold that had spread through his left arm. He tried to lift it. It barely obeyed.

"Perhaps . . . if you help me stand, we may be able to explore the other rooms here."

Lilette Blackbriar

---

"What...?" the would-be-knight raised her head slowly.

"But he was- he was right there."

She pointed a steel-clad finger at the now sealed fate, a newfound hole in the glove revealing but a glimpse of snow-white skin. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment to see nothing at all, hand falling limp at her side.

Lilette was no stranger to death, and yet...

"Right there-" she trailed off.

The girl seemed to continue staring as though Rovan hadn't said a thing, not until he uttered the single word "help", snapping her to attention like a soldier to the warhorn.

"Ah, thou'rt hurt?"

She pushed herself up on her Zweihander, hoisting it to her shoulder as she offered a hand.

"I've potions if thou needest, though, 'tis best to consume sparingly, lest thou incur, ehh... side effects."

"Oh and," she winced, "speaketh thee with volume, if thou wilt."

---

"It shouldn't be much, I'm certain I will--"

Rovan took the hand, but grimaced as more pain assailed him. Icy pain, as if the internal cold gnawed at his heart. He gripped his chest and heaved air more raspily, his feet shuffling for purchase on the floor while Lilette pulled him up. He caught his own moving reflection with a jolt of shock; then grunted, both from his ails and brief fear.

"On second thought, I may need one of those, eh, potions. I'm not worth much at the moment."

Their voices scurried down the icy hall, echoing ever so gently.

Before them, a hallway of eeriely symmetrical walls stretched before them. It led into something like an antechamber, with several corridors sprouting out from it to different areas of this Ice Palace. An army of other stragglers seemed to move in this chamber with them; only to be revealed as their own myriad of reflections, endlessly projected from every mirrored wall and corner. Each surface matched one another so as to nearly make any other portal or entryway invisible.

"Well . . . it looks like this Ice Queen likes to appreciate herself," Rovan mumbled. The view of his own slumpen, ash-pale form leaning for support didn't instill him with much confidence. Rather, it generated a queasy feeling in his stomach.

They were trapped here, now. And one man down.

Lilette Blackbriar

The knightess paid no attention to the chamber at first, instead rifling through her bag to produce a small box. Once unclasped, it seemed carefully padded in red velvet molded around three tiny vials no more than a finger's width half the length.

"Drink thou slowly," she warned, "tis a strong taste."

Carefully uncorked and handed to the sorcerer, it's contents were a dark-red liquid that looked and smelled like human blood, and a little something unknown.

Only then did she turn away, knowing that--should he drink--any physical wounds he'd sustained would begin to rapidly regenerate and seal from the inside out over the next minute or more. Perhaps he may even avoid a scar, if her dosage was correct.

The mirrors gave her pause, as did they to a hundred armored reflections.

Rovan Ravenhill said:

"Well . . . it looks like this Ice Queen likes to appreciate herself,"

Click to expand...

"Was her majesty beautiful?"

The knight suddenly flinched at her own voice returned a hundred fold. Curious perhaps, given the soft frailty of it.

She elected to ignore it, cautiously wandering in.

"What knowest thou of her, whose home we invade? The wizard was most sparing in detail."

This time, she whispered.

---

Rovan gave the potion a whiff and his face puckered up at the suspicious tang of blood. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Down the hatch.

The potion managed to instill some warmth through him, counteracting the chill in his breast. It tasted horribly, and he near coughed it up again, but as he felt its immediate benefit, he could bring it down by force of will.

This allowed him to stand on his own legs.

"She was beautiful, indeed," Rovan said. "A graceful fae of the Seelie Court, they say she was lured to the world of man . . . by love. A simple sheep-herder but possessed of near divine features. They met in the mountains of the Spine, where they swore their undying love to one another, and there she relinquished her connection to the world of the fae, constructing for them a mighty palace, vowing that he should never live in poverty any longer, as long as he was with her. But the man she had set her eyes on were a trick of other fae, who had ingested in him a potion of love." Rovan was reminded of the thin vial in his hand and handed it back to Lilette. "When its effect wore out, he abandoned her, stealing off with any riches he could for his family. Betrayed and with no way back to her home, the gentle fae's heart hardened like ice and she enveloped the mountain in eternal frost and snow. So they say, at least."

Lilette Blackbriar

"Fae?" lady Blackbriar stopped to give him a look.

She continued when Rovan's story ended, creeping forward even more cautiously than before.

"Mm, 'tis a tragic tale, and worrisome."

"Mother toldest me never to trifle with Fae, and speakest always mannerly if at all."

Her voice seemed to trail off while pocketing the empty vial, only stop abruptly. The reflection nearest to her however, continued onward. Still rooted, Lilette closed her fist around the glass, and only then tucked it away.

"Prithee tell me, thou'st seen it too?" she said low and shaky.

The elf looked questioningly at the man standing to her right, tilting her head when those green eyes glared at her with such murderous fury, her veins felt all the more frigid.

In that instant she realized with great horror the man's heartbeat sounded not from this image, but another direction entirely.

---

When had this apparition taken Rovan's place? When he had handed back the vial? When he had first begun his tale, intimating knowledge only few remembered, and still fewer could share with such flawless memory? Or perhaps, his replacement had arrived even further back. Perhaps it had been this heartless reflection that had spoken all along, the deafening echoes silencing her companion's heartbeat long enough to fool her, finally unable to keep its true intentions from spilling out.

Whatever the truth was, here, such a notion seemed endlessly malleable. A place where illusion held sway over reality. And that chastened reality now formed new words in the aether, born in his copied mouth, bouncing off from hard, merciless ice; smooth and reflective as glass:

"You are a disgrace. You think you know pain or loss? Your sufferings are paltry. Deserved."

The environment shifted and morphed, intimating the look of great oak, elm and willow, deep roots racing with running streams for attendance at the court of each gnarled tree. Falwood. Rovan's goatee rose with his twisted snarl, spewing out more venom with the rage of harpies, green eyes glinting like jade arrowheads:

"Why couldn't you simply curl up and die with the rest of them? Why must you persist in this foolish quest," the face transmuted with his voice, both becoming broader, larger, deeper and more melodic with the grace of long-lived races. Godewyn speared Lilette with his gaze, backed by the natural background of their home, all condemning her. "You are nothing like me. And you never will be, no matter how hard you try. My grief runs deeper than these roots you call home. It permeates mountains; the very earth itself."

Who or what was speaking to her? Was this some sliver of the ice queen's own mind? Some summoned ghost of her past? Or was it mere illusion at work, touching upon phantom dreams and surface thoughts like the stingers of some drifting jellyfish; a mere layer of defence like the glacier outside?

Lilette Blackbriar

Echoes of her failure traveled in every direction.

The gaze of her brother scorned pinned her there like a spike, wide eyed behind the thin slit of what had once been his warmask, and she knew all at once why Sir Godewyn Blackbriar spoke with such righteous hatred in his heart.

"I-" and he was right.

"I know, o' brother mine."

Her breath hitched when he stepped forward, wood creaking beneath his black armor. The mighty elf, tallest in her family, glared down at her from behind the mask which covered only the top half of his face, rising into a crown of root and thorn worthy of The Lioness' favorite son. Lilette's favorite brother, the man for whom she wielded sword and legacy both.

"Return what you have stolen." he demanded.

Lilette flinched on the spot, head low and covering her ears. Godewyn's pale, dead lips gave way to a searing sneer as he pointed his steel-clad finger towards a door which had not been there moments before. She looked, and saw a great mound in the forest, the one with a cherry sapling twisting from it's center.

"Godewyn please-"

She knew that hill. Knew it in sleepless nights and regret unbidden.

"Go."

"Please!" she cried.

"Go!" barked her brother.

And so it was that Lilette marched deeper into the hall of mirrors, seeing only tree and root in her path. The great thorns of Tir'Rhosyn grew and spiraled all around her, steadily choking the light from these woods more so than she remembered. Godewyn walked beside her but deigned not even look upon his little sister, nor the parasite she'd become.

"You know what you've done." he said, his voice colder than even these chambers.

"Father,"

Her stomach sank.

"Ardryll,"

"Stop it." interrupted Lilette.

"It was you, wasn't it?!"

"I said-"

"Kin-killer!"

"StoP Iiiiiiiiiiiittt!"

The girl shrieked with such deafening violence the very castle seemed to shake, even illusory birds scattered and leaves fell. The mirrors bounced her cries and screams until she could no longer hear what Godewyn seemed to so fervently demand from the corner of her tear-ridden eye.

And then one of them shattered.

---

An altogether different vision was plaguing Rovan.

Instead of the venerable and graceful trees of Falwood, he found himself surrounded by the butchered woodwork and drab, rickety, mould-eaten timbers of Grayshore; carpets of mud rolling out for him. A sizeable crowd of commoners and craftsmen blocked his access to the ship that awaited him, where a distinctive ray of sunshine defiantly speared through the bruised sky, lighting up the prow of the ship and its bold white sails -- the only impressive structure in the harbour, and one that was soon about to leave.

The people that crowded him and blocked access to the ship he all knew. There was Khernon the butcher with his three glum sons. There was Mayos the Miller, proudly carrying his one scrap of importance, a sheathed longsword in his belt. And there was Kit Cackler, the chief gossipmonger and wise-woman of the harbourside; and Lucy Liar, Fletcher Nod, Bell the Basket, Do-niddle Two, and all the others besides.

"You're a fool to go. You have no trade. You'll wind up in the streets or dead," Lucy declared, crossing her large arms.

"You think you can hope for greater things? You belong here. Among dirt and gutters."

"Next he'll think he can turn into some lord, just like that!"

Laughters erupted among them like sqwuaking ducks having a row on a dirty lake. Rovan watched them all carefully, guarded with his tongue. For while he saw through this illusion, he had to grant it some credit. It used a splinter from his memory and manipulated it with great finesse and skill, performing a careful balancing act between reality and exaggeration that would have made any bard jealous.

He expected that anything he might say would simply feed into this devious machination.

But despite the misgivings of his mind, his heart throbbed all over again, with all the doubt, dread, sense of betrayal and loneliness it had before . . . but chief among these feelings: the sense of smallness before the accumulated judgement of so-called friends and neighbors. Inferior. That was how they had made him feel, before he had embarked on his journey to Alliria, in service of Lord Briarwall.

He had vowed never to feel like that again.

Defying those re-summoned feelings, Rovan opted to pull their legs, in turn. At least until he could find a way out. He had been little more than a child the last time. Now, he could retort at them as an adult, spewing out all the insults he had wished he could tell them back then.

In fact, this might be a golden opportunity.

"A lord I may not be, but at least I won't be vomiting my excess bile around wells like you, Kit. Oh yes, I imagine you will poison quite a few metaphorical wells, Kit Cackler, what with your pathetic gossip. Of course, you wouldn't poison any actual wells -- you lack the wit for it."

The rabble started hurtling insults back at him, their voices drowning his out. But he carried on as if he didn't hear them, turning for Mayos, crying out to hear his own words:

"I hope you are proud of your glorified toothpick, Master Mayos. I expect I could buy a handful at this point."

He would have liked to indulge in more slander, telling them all to piss off. But a shriek rippled through the illusion and mirrors shattered. The faces, the voices, the ship and the grey, overcast sky gave way for hard, blank ice; a crack spiderwebbing through the mirrors before him.

He was remiss to see this go; it had all been strangely cathartic. Wiping an unshed tear from his eye, Rovan briskly went about navigating corridors of sheer ice, seeking the owner of the voice. That screech had sounded too raw and natural to be fabricated by magic.

At last, he found her. Sunk into an armoured heap among reflective, glass-like ice that had shaped out new contours, surrounding her like blank, unformed faces, splitting her reflection into a hundred different fragments.

"Lady Blackbriar," he mumbled, tentatively placing a hand on her black pauldron. The soft fur mitt couldn't give much of a squeeze through her carapace, but he hoped the sentiment was there. "'Tis me."

Lilette Blackbriar