Chapter 23 #2
“What magic is this?” I gasp, staring at where my body should be.
Around me, I hear the others' voices, equally stunned.
“I can't see myself,” Ellis exclaims.
“Gods,” breathes Nyx.
The only person I don’t notice exclaiming anything is Byron. I don’t have time to wonder why.
“Everyone, remain calm,” Selen says, her voice cutting through our collective shock. She moves to the closet again and rummages inside. When her hand emerges, it appears to be clutching nothing, but from the way her arm positions, she's clearly holding something.
“Gather around me,” she commands. “Quickly.”
I step forward, feeling disoriented by my own invisibility. As I approach Selen, I collide with what feels like another person.
“Watch it,” Lira's voice hisses close to my ear.
“Sorry,” I mutter, “but in case you haven't noticed, I can't see you.”
Something is pressed against me—a rope, but it feels like it’s made of the same strange material as our clothing. I grasp it tightly, feeling others do the same along its length.
“Listen carefully,” Selen says, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “Hold onto this rope and do not, under any circumstances, let go. Stay silent unless I speak to you directly. Understood?”
Murmurs of confused agreement ripple through our invisible group. Selen grabs an outfit for herself, and a few moments later, she’s pulled it on and vanished from our sight, too. It’s like they activate with body heat or something.
The door to Selen's office swings open, and I feel a tug on the rope. We begin moving as one, following Selen out into the corridor. The strangeness of walking while completely invisible makes me feel untethered, dreamlike, as if I've slipped into some old fae’s reality. Maybe I have.
Selen leads us quickly away from familiar routes.
She seems to know the quietest corridors at this hour, since we don’t encounter a soul.
Soon, she’s guiding us through passages I've never seen before, descending deeper into the Ironhold.
The main corridors give way to narrower tunnels, the polished stone of the upper levels replaced by rough-hewn rock that speaks of age and secrets.
“These tunnels predate the Ironhold,” Selen whispers as we navigate a particularly tight passage. “Carved by mountain fae centuries before the empire claimed this place.” She seems to know a lot of history about this place, and I wonder again what her story is.
The air grows cooler, damper, tinged with an earthy scent that reminds me of soil after rain. We twist and turn through the labyrinthine passages, descending ever deeper. I lose all sense of direction, knowing only that we're moving away from the heart of the fortress.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silent walking, we reach a small gate set into the rock. It looks ancient, its metal weathered by time.
Selen pauses, and I hear the soft jingle of keys. A moment later, a key materializes in midair. Selen inserts it into the lock and with a protesting groan of metal, the gate swings open.
We spill out into… open air. I’m momentarily stunned by the pressure of wind against my face, of fresh air entering my lungs. I almost forgot what it tastes like.
We’ve stepped into a small, sheltered clearing, hidden behind a rocky outcropping on the mountainside. The late afternoon sun spills through a smattering of leafless trees, casting sharp shadows across the ground.
And suddenly, I realize I can see my companions, their forms visible to me as if they weren’t wearing suits. I exchange bewildered glances with Lira and Nyx. Then I look at Selen, trying to understand whether we’ve lost our minds or she has.
She gives me a flash of a smile. “Don’t worry, we’re still invisible to others. The suits simply form a connection to each other when in direct sunlight.”
“How—?” I stammer.
“Hush now. I have something to show you.”
She approaches a large, shadowed alcove, and her figure disappears again when she steps into its darkness. She emerges a minute later and I almost choke on my tongue.
Beside her, a dragon the length of six draft horses materializes before my eyes: a sleek, sinuous creature with scales the color of midnight, veined with streaks of amethyst. Its eyes are milky white, pupilless, yet somehow I sense it sees me perfectly.
“Beautiful, isn't she?” Selen says, her voice filled with genuine affection.
“A void drake?” Ellis suddenly breathes. He stares in awe, eyes wide with something like reverence.
“Smart boy,” Selen murmurs, a hint of satisfaction touching her smile. Then, for the rest of us, she elaborates, “Void drakes are exceedingly rare. The empire’s hunted them nearly to extinction for their scales, the very material you’re wearing now.”
The implications stagger me. This clothing, this rope… everything is fashioned from the scales of these creatures. I’d never even heard of void drakes before.
But then, before the Ironhold, dragons had always existed at the edge of my world: real, but remote, never close enough to touch.
“Her name is Orphara,” Selen says, stroking the drake's long neck. “And she's going to take us where we need to go.”