Closed The Beginning of the End (Fable)

[Aislyn Leavold]

81st of Winter, 515 AV

This is a bad decision.
Famous last words. Or rather, thoughts, due to the fact that as soon as Aislyn stepped through the door, the air was sucked out of her lungs.

Her actual last words, should transversing the door actually kill her, had probably been something along the lines of don’t worry, it'll be fine. Said to Phobius- the poor boy- a few chimes before.

Phobius had been tagging along with her for more days than Aislyn could count, ever since the city had turned into more of a never ending ring. She'd had to be incredibly aware of everything she did around him. There was no room for error in her Maya illusion. For the first time, ‘Maya’ was more of a confinement than an escape. But by that time, Aislyn had learned to adapt to what she had.

The woman had begun to carry most essential possessions with her, just in case the world came crashing down around her. She carried her crossbow, however inexperienced she may be with it, everywhere. She remembered feeling invincible as a child whenever she had it, but the flaws in her training were certainly showing through now. She could load and shoot a reasonably accurate shot, yes, but it took her several chimes to reload, longer while moving. Not much good in an actual battle, especially when half of her shots were misses.
Nonetheless, the crossbow stayed with her. Along with a fair supply of rations, her cloak, what clothes she could fit, her notebook, a spare, blank book, charcoal, and both lockets. One on top of her clothes, one beneath. The Eye, as she'd taken to calling it, was a strangely comforting item in the apocalypse.

She was as ready as she'd ever be.

That's why she'd wasted no time plotting with Phobius to go through the door that had appeared in the center of the ringed Alvadas. The triangle that was displayed on the door had been enough to pique her interest, nevermind the fact that, as she had inspected it, it seemed to inspect her back. Then there was the empty space behind it, with no explanation of where it might lead. It was a very Ionu-esqe thing.

Which begged the question, where was Ionu through all of this?

Alvadas had been losing what playful charm it had over the past few seasons, and Aislyn had definitely noticed. Usually, the illusions that followed her around were flying rainbow fish, flocks of shape shifting birds, or other lighthearted things, but most recently, everything seemed to have soured. Not only towards her, of course, but there had certainly been some very worrying sights to behold, especially throughout fall. In seasons prior, it had been shadows that detached from bodies and played pranks on their owners. Now, it was shadows that followed you around silently, flickering into shapes that, though unnerving, couldn't be described. Not to mention the distinct feeling of being watched.

The city falling ill. The issue with the quicksand, and the messages from the horned man. The speeches of the speakers, and the body switch, with Nythis. The warning at the end of the fall season. Everything had seemed much more… Hostile. Her prayers were left unanswered, though her faith never waivered. She'd wanted answers, and this door seemed to be the perfect invitation to find them.
So “Miss Maya” and Phobius had gone through the door. Aislyn first, of course, to assure the boy that nothing was going to spontaneously combust once they made it through. And because she was the one with the loaded weapon.

As she stumbled out of the doorway, the door closed behind her. Assuming the fiery-haired boy had come through behind her, Aislyn turned, ”See? Nothing to be afraid of.”

Except when she turned, there was no one there. Phobius was nowhere in sight. Her words fell on empty air, as if sucked away by the strand world around her. For a few ticks, she faced the door, impatiently expecting the boy to step through.
Perhaps he'd just hesitated, or was taking longer to prepare himself. He'd be fine. They'd obeyed all the rules of the door. No one would have stopped him.

Any moment now, she assured herself, but ‘any moment’ turned into ‘any tick’, which turned into ‘any chime’, which turned into Aislyn pacing back and forth in front of the door she'd emerged from, imagining all the possible situations that Phobius could be trapped in. She hadn't considered the possibility that he'd wait before entering. She never should have agreed to go first. If she had just waited, she would be able to assure the fact that he went through, and follow after him. He'd probably frozen up, and got pushed to the side by the other people surrounding the door. Maya flickered as she paced nervously, startled by a booming sound of something nearby. She'd have to move soon.
Come on, Phobius, just go through the door.

Out of a mixture of impatience, concern, and brashness, Aislyn decided to break the rules. Just one, that had been listed last. No one would know. If you go in, you don't come back.
Phobius must have still been on the other side, frightened by something or other. It seemed like something he would do. She'd just go back and grab him, then they could continue together.

Except, when the woman opened the door, she was met with a wall.
Not even empty space. Not like the other door, where there had been the possibility of entrance. There was just… A wall. Further probing proved it to be solid brick.

Aislyn got the feeling Phobius wasn't coming through the door anymore.

In an act of desperation, the woman shut the door and opened it again. And again. A familiar shaking plagued her hands. She was in a strange place, with no way back, and she was entirely alone. The possible end of Alvadas as they knew it was happening, and she had jumped right into the center of it, all of her own accord. Phobius was lost somewhere else, without any sort of guidance. That was her fault too.
Ionu preserve her.
No, Ionu preserve them all.

Turning back around, Aislyn met whatever was in store head-on. She'd asked for this, after all. She'd read the rules and she'd obeyed them, and this was what she got. Looking around, the woman sighed. The apocalypse was happening to all of them, and Aislyn was no different.
She supposed she'd just have to find a way out if it alone.

[Fable]

She was allowed a single step, one that she took forward in advance rather than back in indecision, but as be moved, her wrist was caught by the smooth, gentle tug of another's hand. "Aislyn, wait." The voice was familiar, though not in the traditional sense. The woman spoke with a gentle, soothing warmth, and as Aislyn turned to see who kept her from her path, there would be only the mirror reflection of Maya's face. Only... It wasn't a mirror. Not exactly. She was no longer a disguise, instead she stood on her own two feet, a few inches taller, making Aislyn seem the distorted shadow in her wake. A gentle smile turned the corners of her mouth as she let her hand run through the waves of moonlight that seemed just about to glow in the relative murk of the uncertain area they found themselves in. "Shouldn't we wait for Phobius?" Her blue eyes swam with concern, though it wasn't clear if the expression was meant for the fiery-headed young boy or the woman to whom she spoke.

"Petch off, Maya. Just because she thinks like me one time-" Another woman spoke up, this time from a direction just out of Aislyn's line of sight. If she turned her head, the dark, straight hair and reserved features would quickly denote the face of Thief, only, just as with Maya, her features were complete, and her voice, while quiet like the shadows she represented, held a gruff quality to it.

"I wasn't-" Maya tried to interrupt, but Thief waved a hand, a crude gesture being met with a slight huff of indignant frustration from the proper Alvad.

"Look. He's dead weight. We have enough problems without him." A pale finger was directed at the crossbow that was strapped across Aislyn's back, a roll of her eyes emphasizing her point. "That is our only weapon. Can you defend yourself with a crossbow, Maya?"

There was a hiss of a whistle before the a clinking thwack sounded as a crossbow bolt planted itself right between thief's feet, the sudden attack startling both of the other women: Maya took a step back in surprise while Thief quickly glanced around the area to see where weapon had been fired from. There was a peal of laughter from the shadows before a familiar little girl skipped around a corner, the same crossbow that hung from Aislyn's shoulders held carelessly in both hands, like one might a newborn baby. "I can!"

Neither of the other women seemed very amused. Thief spoke first as the child version of Aislyn set the weapon down to fix a few stray hairs that had escaped her messy braid. "My point." The words were enough to burn through flesh had they been even a hair more acidic.

Maya, however, shook her head, placing her hands on her hips and giving Thief a very familiar look that was, typically, reserved for a certain dhani. "I don't know when you last checked, Thief, but we don't have a lot of friends. I'd like to at least try to keep the one we do have." This was responded to with another crude gesture, to which Maya rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in aggravation. "All I'm saying is-"

"All of you, hush." The fifth voice was one that was the most unrecognizable, though if Aislyn thought hard and long about it, she might remember it as some distant, childish dream. All three of those who had gathered around the young illusionist turned their heads, Thief about to say something before her eyes settled on who had spoken and the words died on her tongue. There, in the ally, stood a tall, powerful looking woman. Her hair was a tangle of bushy curls, framing a wide, square jaw that held a pair of fierce, burning eyes they seemed to smolder with an emerald fire of determination. Her frame was wide and muscular, wrapped in elegant but worn leather armor, a massive crossbow that was a few inches longer than she was tall strapped to her back as she stared back at all four of the women with an ease of confidence and command. "You haven't let her speak." All heads turned back to face Aislyn, curiosity playing in each gaze in a different way. "What would you have us do, Aislyn?"

They each waited for her response, the warrior woman seemingly carrying enough weight within whatever social ties they had to one another that nothing more would be said until Aislyn had said her piece. Somewhere, in the distance, a crow let out a mournful cry, wings flapping as it took of into the air, heralding the faded sounds of battle that played just along the edges of perception.

[Aislyn Leavold]

"Aislyn, wait."
Two very simple words. How ironic they had such an effect. In an instant, she froze, an all too familiar feeling crawling up her spine.
Aislyn.
No one knew that name.
Faces could change at the drop of a hat, but names stayed static. At least, given ones did. The names that people knew, in truth, changed as fluidly as the tides. The woman was Maya one day, Nise the next. She was Anjani or Sam. Illisha, even, once. She'd never been Aislyn. Not for a good number of years. No one but her mother and herself knew that name, and it certainly hadn't been her mother than she'd heard.

The hand on her wrist was cold, though gentle. A hand that Aislyn very eagerly shook off. Cautiously, she raised her eyes, the words ”How do you know that name?” already halfway through her lips. But, as soon as her gaze met the woman in front of her, they died on her lips. It wasn't her mother, of course. However, she’d still be half correct.
It was herself. Or rather, Maya.
Maya?

There was the sound of white noise, blood rushing in her ears.
Maya?

A breathy ”what?” followed by a ”how? escaped Aislyn’s throat as she looked down at the wrist the illusioned had grasped. She felt fingers. Five fingers that Maya really had. Fingers that could touch and feel and grab things. Wide eyed, Aislyn tried to form words that died just as quickly as the last. For once, the illusionist had nothing to say.

Maya wasn't supposed to be a person. She wasn't supposed to be real. She wasn't real. But yet she stood in front of her, knowing her name, knowing Phobius. Knowing everything. Aislyn’s illusions weren't real. They didn't breathe and walk and speak, and they certainly didn't say things like ‘Shouldn't we wait for Phobius?’.
Maya didn't have a voice. She was still Aislyn. She was just an illusion, in Aislyn’s head, just like everything else. Except now she wasn't. And she wasn't alone, either.

From the shadows emerged another woman, and Aislyn quickly began retreating towards the nearest wall. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. Thief and Maya weren't real. They never had been. They were protection. Like swords, or shields. They didn't separate themselves from Aislyn; they weren't allowed to do that. They weren't allowed to have minds of their own.
What did she mean, ‘like me’? Didn't they all think the same?
They were masks. Disguises. Behind them, Aislyn was still Aislyn. She didn't change.

...right?
Yet, at the moment, she looked like Maya. And, at the moment, she thought like Maya. She'd waited for Phobius as long as she could. She'd panicked when the boy who could not help her in any way hadn't come through the door. Aislyn didn't do that. Aislyn didn't have friends, she had acquaintances at arms length. But Maya…

This was all happening too fast.

Before Aislyn could even react to the introduction of Thief, another face appeared. A younger face. Another Aislyn. An Aislyn that bore much fresher scars, and a much fresher memory of how to shoot a crossbow.
But Aislyn wasn't an illusion. She'd never been an illusion. How could she be there? It didn't make sense. Thief and Maya, illusions come to life. But young Aislyn; that was time travel.
Except…

Except she was an illusion. An illusion Aislyn had used on her birthday, a year and a half prior. But that Aislyn wasn't the same as the real Aislyn. She was just an adult in a four foot tall body. But the little girl in front of her certainly didn't look like an adult in a four foot body. That looked like a little girl.
Experimentally, Aislyn creeped up towards the new figure, waving her hand above the girl’s head. If she was the same illusion Aislyn had used, she would encounter more body, since the illusionist couldn't truly change her shape. And yet, Maya had been taller. Her hand went over cleanly, no indication of a higher body. These weren't the same as what she was used to. They weren’t just Aislyns illusioned into Maya and Thief and a little girl, they were real.

A few ticks later, another face entered the play, throwing her off balance again. A surprisingly unrecognizable voice, to the point where Aislyn considered the idea that someone else, someone who was not an illusion, had managed to happen upon them. At the introduction of the imposing figure, Aislyn felt a migraine begin to poke at the back of her mind.
This was all too much.
They were arguing in front of her, before the latest woman hushed them. As if they expected Aislyn to know what was going on.
What an impossible thought.

”I… I don't…” They still referred to her as ‘Aislyn’, implying that they respected the fact that she was the original. Supposedly. That also meant that they- whatever they were- didn't plan on taking over her life and replacing her as the true Maya or the real Thief, but Aislyn still didn't trust them. It was rather ironic. Her paranoia cut so deep as to not even trust herself.
A real tragedy, that.

Rubbing her palms into her eyes, Aislyn tried to form words, ”The door… It's blocked. I tried. Phobius can't come through anymore; he must have come out somewhere else. Alone.”

This was absurd. She was talking to herself. Literally. The whole situation put her on edge, clouding her mind. Everything felt unreal. Her hands were shaking worse now. She couldn't concentrate.

With the cry of a crow, her own version of ‘Maya’ flickered away, leaving her alone. And cornered.

Nevertheless, the woman tried to continue. Her words came out as just above a whisper, but luckily audible.
”We have to find a way to where he… Ended up. And the others. We've proven that there's something on this side of the door, so we have to find it where they've gone. And…” She paused, shaking her head. ”...and…” Her growing migraine objected loudly to the movement, angrily stabbing behind her eyes. ”...and... figure out… What's going on.”

”The Speakers must be here. Along with the cause of all of… This.” In a strange moment of realization, Aislyn discovered upon the fact that she didn't particularly have to think through her words anymore. She was speaking to illusions, and illusions of herself no less. She didn't even have her own illusions up anymore. There was nothing to hide. She was Aislyn now. Maya was someone different entirely.

”Phobius, if he made it through the door, is somewhere in this… World.” Apocalypse Alvadas. Possibly a different dimension entirely. ”He can't be dead yet. I believe in him that much. But all I… We gave him…” She nodded towards Maya, ”Was a knife. And that was only to allow him passage to appease the rules. He can't use it. We-” This time the nod was toward Thief, ”-can barely use a crossbow, and unless we’re drawing our way out of here, we have to find some other way.” She refused to acknowledge the child or the warrior woman. The sight of who she used to be was nothing pleasant, and something about how familiar the other woman was set her on edge. Aislyn didn't like not knowing things, at at that moment, there was a whole lot she didn't know.

Even from the alley, it was evident to her that the world that she had stepped into was unlike the Alvadas from before. The hazy air and occasional bloody scream was evidence enough of that. They were alright in the alley for the moment, but the smoke in the wind and rancid smell of something rotting quite obviously hinted towards something malicious coming soon, and fast. Her eyes feel to her palms, which were very noticeably shaking. Exhaling, she clasped her hands together to force them still.
”After all, it would appear the world is ending…” And if not the world, at least Alvadas.
She drew a shaky breath, ”...but not yet.”

[Fable]

Concern clouded Maya's soft blue eyes as Aislyn struggled to comprehend what was going on, though she seemed to be the only one to give her plight any notice. Thief watched, rolling her eyes at the shuddering weakness of Aislyn's confusion, but kept her lips shut, choosing instead to focus on a bit of difficult to remove dirt beneath her fingernail. The younger Aisyln skipped her way over to the warrior woman who scooped her up into her strong, able arms, pulling a breathless giggle from the child as she was placed upon her throne of leather-clad shoulders. At Aislyn's explanation as to what had happened, Maya obligingly pulled at the door's handle, a harsh click of a locked bolt keeping it from opening, making it all the more difficult to pass, even if there had been space behind it.

The three other women nodded along with Aislyn's reasoning, the smaller child too focused on braiding the mess of hair directly before her. Thief offered a snort of laughter at Aislyn's passing joke, but both the warrior woman and Maya remained relatively stoic, both of their faces in a mix of thought that mirrored Aislyn's own. At her closing statement, the large woman grinned, pounding a fist to her chest in response. "Aye, not yet." The scent of rot in the air seemed to shift with the wind, acrid smoke swirling just above them. The distant echos of battle coming through just a hair more clearly.

Thief shook her head, hands moving in a similar fashion. "Wait wait wait." There was a look of legitimate unease in her dark eyes as she turned them towards Aislyn, flicking back and fourth between her and the warrior woman who stood with arms crossed and a soft curve of a frown on her weather chapped lips. "So what, you're saying we should just go look for him? Out here?" This time, she spoke directly to the warrior woman. "She's going to get us killed."

"Thief!" Maya's reprimand wasn't quite as harsh as they had been in the past, a slight uncertainty to her own voice, even as she continued, brushing off whatever misgivings had first clouded her voice. "If we don't at least try, he's as good as dead. Are you saying you want that?"

The dark haired women seemed about to say something, but she stopped herself, gritting her teeth before leaning back against the wall with a brooding frown and hunched shoulders. "I'm saying I don't want us dead..."

"I like him! He's like me!" Another giggle tinkled its way into the air, the child's mirth a clashing joviality to the somber atmosphere.

With a wide smile, the warrior woman ruffled the child's hair, a chuckle of her own, though one that was distant, sad almost. "Isn't he?" Letting her hand fall back to her side, her piercing, verdant gaze settling upon Aislyn with an intensity that could not be ignored, not truly. "I hope you can understand our concern, Aislyn." Though her voice rumbled in a gruff, chesty alto, there was a gentle lilt in the way she pronounced her name, something that had been present in the way that Maya had addressed her as well: tenderness. "We want to protect you, we just..." She paused, a brief twinge of pain clouding her features for just a moment before she shook it off. "We just don't know how."

Maya nodded, taking a step forward and extending a hand before thinking better and keeping them clasped in front of her. "We've spent a lot of time together, but... I still don't know you. None of us do. I... I want to find Phobius, but I don't want to put our lives at risk either."

Thief let out a heavy sigh, leaning her head back so that she could stare up into the smokey sky, chewing on her bottom lip as Maya spoke. "We've had hard decisions before..."

Here, the child's levity found a more somber tone as she too joined in reminiscence. "Miss Wanda..."

"We did what we could." Maya's tone didn't waver, eyes as fierce as they had ever been, almost defiant before the warrior woman waved a hand, a gentle, sad smile on her lips to calm the pale haired woman back into an apologetic bow of her head.

"So, we gave the little a thorn. I agree that the streets seem far more dangerous then they've ever been before, and I don't think we're much good in a fight." Her words were hardly uplifting, and even the child perched on her shoulders seemed the greyer for it. "Right then. What are our strengths? How do we use those to get through the city, find Phobius, and get the petch out of here?" All eyes were on Aislyn once more, only this time each held a different expression in her gaze.

Maya, gentle and beautiful as Aislyn had made her, held a soft glow of love, of curiosity, and of fear.

Thief, a hardened exterior with a vulnerable core, eyed Aislyn with both respect and a hint of suspicion, worry eating at the edges of her stare.

The childlike Aislyn, vivacious and unabashed, stared with wide eyes, a lack of comprehension mingling with that of admiration as she stared at her future self.

The warrior woman, proud and strong, gazed down upon her with a burning intensity, one that was comprised of dignity, fortitude, and even love.

Lastly, there were another set of eyes, eyes that watched unseen from the shadows, as unnoticed as rolling clouds above or the broken cobbled below, little more than a whisper at the back of one's mind, yet always there, always watching.

[Aislyn Leavold]

That was that, then.

It took Aislyn several ticks to regain her breath, her hands wrung out in front of her as she thought. Silently, her eyes flickered over the women in front of her as she laid out what information she had.

There’s Maya, there's Thief, they're illusions, but they're real. They weren't the same kind of illusions that Aislyn made, though. They're illusions like the horned man, or the ducks. They exist as much as anything else, they were just made a different way. And they'd die a different way too.
Then there was the little Aislyn, who knows just as much about our life as the rest of us. She either had access to their memories, or had been watching everything from behind the scenes, ever since Aislyn had created her. Or possibly, since before that. After all, the child was much younger than Aislyn had been when she had been marked. It was certainly possible her childhood self had been swept away to the back of her mind since the day her childhood ended. Little Aislyn also had a crossbow of her own, and who knew what else up her sleeves. She'd always been a reckless child, after all.
Then there was the warrior woman. The one she couldn't quite place.

As the silence stretched on, the mystery woman had been the first to respond, a hearty Aye and a fist on her heart as the sounds of battle took over the silence.
Aye, not yet. She’d heard that voice before. The woman’s voice. Aislyn hadn't quite heard it before, but the words themselves… Familiar. The accent, vague, but strong. Implacable, yet unforgettable. What was it?

Her headache pounded at the increased concentration, forcing her to put the problem aside for the moment. The woman side-eyed her bulkier equivalent wearily until her focus was drawn to Thief, who seemed on edge from Aislyn’s words. Her objection made sense. But so did Maya’s. Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps she was, as Thief had implied, thinking like Maya.
Perhaps their main focus should be finding out what was going on. After all, what good would Phobius be if neither of them had a clue about their surroundings?
It was hard to argue with yourself.

The note about concern, though, as the warrior woman spoke, set her on edge. The kindness was off putting. We want to protect you. It made sense. Without Aislyn, none of them existed. Yet still, they were illusions, presumably illusions of Ionu’s design, thrown at Aislyn knowing all her thoughts and memories like it was no big deal. They were illusions, just as the rainbow fish and colourful bears had been. They still hurt if they hit you, and they still died if a knife went in their heart. However, eventually, they would expire. Just as everything always did.
She’s going to get us killed.
A pang of something went up through Aislyn’s chest. They had feelings, as well, then. They could feel fear, and they could be hurt. That brought the question- did all illusions feel like that?
Alvads saw them every day of their lives, everywhere, in anything. If they were as real as the people themselves, what happened to them when they grew stale? When the season ended? Did dying hurt as well?

If all that separate them was how they were formed, who was Aislyn to decide their fate?

Raising her eyes to meet Maya’s as she spoke, Aislyn saw emotion. She saw fear, and concern. Human emotions, just as any person she knew had. Perhaps they were illusions, but for the moment, at least, in this world, they were as real as anyone.

"We’ve spent a lot of time together, but… I still don't know you. None of us do."

That was a peculiar way to put it. She was right, of course. Aislyn and Maya had never spoken. They had never existed at the same time, actually. It had never been possible. With the way they were speaking, though, they made it seem like they'd all seen everything. Even the child, who had existed only once, and the warrior, who had never existed at all. They knew about Wanda, and presumably, everything else as well. We did what we could.

No, we didn't.

But she couldn't think about that right now.
For the moment, they had a battle to fight. And a war to win.

”Strengths…” Aislyn could do that. Set could her mind to a task and ignore everything else that was going on. That was the way to solve her problems, right? ”We have weaponry.” One, two… ”Three crossbows.” Maya didn't have one, as far as she could see. Surprisingly, neither did Thief. Smaller Aislyn's bow was of the same design of Aislyn’s, while the mystery woman’s was quite a bit larger of a weapon. ”Phobius has my knife, but we couldn't use it anyway.”

After that, the less obvious of weapons.
”Do you have anything with you?” Aislyn had her bag, though she doubted that had been duplicated as easily as her face. ”Weapons, rations, books, information,” She bent down, pulled the crossbow bolt the child Aislyn had shot out of the dirt, ”...arrows, anything.”
If they could just find out what they had to work with, they'd be able to make a plan.

After that, she had to address the elephant in the room.
”Then there’s… The mark.” She'd never spoken about it before. It was never something she had shared, and thus never discussed aloud. But the other Aislyns were still Aislyn, and they must have known something about it.
Her eyes drifted to Maya’s shoulder, as if she was going to see the azure triangle there. She wouldn’t, of course, because her illusion always hid it, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. A brief moment of hope illuminated her dark eyes, ”Do any of you have it? Can you use it?”

Her mind was moving faster than her body. She needed movement. Once again, Aislyn began to pace, turning the arrow over and over in her hands.
”We could try… Try to use it to make us invisible. I… We’ve never done anything like it before, but maybe with more people, more marks...” More power. It could work, in theory. She'd just have to concentrate. Really concentrate. More than she did with Maya, or Thief, or anyone.

Her growing headache didn't like that plan.

After a while, she stopped, slipping her younger counterpart's arrow into her bag, where it fit in with the rest of her spare bolts.
”I don't know what you have to offer. You say you don't know me, but I don't know you either.” She didn't know herself. How absurd. ”Yet you seem to know each other.”
There was a caution in her words, distrusting of the fact that she was facing down herself, of all people.
”Who are you, really?” She bit her lip, pondering her words, ”What are you?”

It seemed like they'd wanted her to just accept the fact that there were now four other versions of herself. But how? Were the gods themselves conducting this? Who had created this world? What was this world, even? Were they in Alvadas? Was this another Alvadas? Had the buildings that had been disappearing been pulled into this Alvadas instead? Were there two Alvadases now? Ring-Alvadas and Apocalypse-Alvadas? Which one was the real one? Was this where the missing people had gone? Were they dead? Worse? Where the petch was Ionu?

Gods preserve her, it was going to be a long day.

[Fable]

Though all the women nodded along with Aislyn's quick inventory check, Thief was the only one who had anything useful on her person, pulling out a kit of lock-picking tools and a couple stones for pick pocketing. As far as the rest were concerned: the child Aislyn had a handful of buttons, the warrior woman had a very old looking house key that matched Aislyn's own, and Maya had a few silver Mizas. All in all, there wasn't much more than what had been accounted for, and they put their items back where they had come from, though the child, still perched atop the warrior woman's shoulders, stared playing with her new found treasures as Aislyn continued. From their somber reactions, it was clear that the bolt that she pulled out of the ground was the only arrow they had between them that Aislyn didn't have with her, as the warrior woman glanced over her shoulder and offered a noncommittal shrug.

At her next question, the atmosphere only seemed to grow heavier. Maya was the first to respond, mutely shaking her head as Aislyn scanned the area where it should have been to find nothing at all. Thief was next, her lips turned down in a firm frown as she too shook her head. Little Aislyn and the warrior woman checked each other, but both offered Aislyn only quiet affirmations of her suspicions. It seemed the plan to use multiple marks was out of the question, but no one spoke up against it. There wasn't a need to.

When the final question was brought to the forefront, Thief gave the warrior woman an odd, expectant glance before turning back to face Aislyn, the first to speak, only this time her voice seemed bit more distant, as if she were gazing into the distance rather than at the other woman's face and not quite present. "We're... you." Her eyes refocused, the dark irises as uncertain as those that stared back at her. "...Aren't we?"

Maya frowned, her own features as clouded as Thief's, if not a bit softer and far more centered in the current situation. "I thought... Well, I-I thought you knew." She ran a hand through her hair, letting her eyes close as she gently pressed the heel of her hand into her temple. "I don't..." She trailed off chewing on her bottom lip as she let her gaze fall to the ground. "Know..."

The warrior woman spoke then, hoisting the younger child off of her shoulders and setting her gently on the ground, a squeal of glee rising through the air as little Aislyn waved her hands on either side as if she were flying. "We are who you need us to be. Does it matter what we are?" Her voice was firm, the familiarity of it still distant, but it had taken on the quality of a teacher towards a student. She held no anger in voice, only a brusque, matter-of-fact tone as she continued, placing a large hand on the child's head, who giggled at the added weight. "We only know what you expect us to, and even then..."

"I forget!" The child pushed the woman's hand off of her head, still giggling, as she ran over to Aislyn, smile wide and gaze wholly uncomprehending of the gravity of the conversation. "I remember some stuff, like Taji and what ham tastes like." A small shrug rose small shoulders as she tilted her head, braids mussed from where the woman's hand had ruffled her hair. "But I can't remember other stuff. Like her. Or her." She pointed first to Thief then to Maya. "But they're pretty."

Thief and Maya both smiled at the child, their faces a mirrored sadness, expressed differently but felt the same. In the distance, there was a strange, warbling howl, mixing with the smokey air in such a way that the location from which the sound had come was uncertain. Smile quickly flickering from Thief's lips, she spoke once more in her quiet, urgent manner. "Look. I get you're suspicious of us. Hai, I'm suspicious of us, but right now, I don't know if we have time for it." She glanced towards Maya, almost business-like in the hard light of her eyes' expression. "If we want to save Phobius, trust or not, we need to get going. He could be anywhere."

[Aislyn Leavold]

Lockpicks, stones, buttons, a key, and mizas. The lockpicks were the most extraordinary things out of all of them. Thief’s, of course, as foretold by her name. A reminder of why Thief had been created in the first place- theft. She’d stolen before- as proven by Thief’s existence at all- but she didn’t anymore. That was behind her, now. Her mizas were well earned. Perhaps, though, they’d come in handy. Somehow.

Other than that, they didn’t have much else. A reasonable amount arrows to split among three bows, one mark of illusionism, and five different Aislyns to cover.
So the invisibility could certainly be attempted, but they needed something else to fall back on in case it failed. Experimentally, Aislyn tried to see if she could make something small disappear. Maybe her hand.
Staring down at her palm, Aislyn tried to imagine the ground below her. She painted the cold dirt and the sharp stones onto her fingers and palm. Just like applying an illusion, except instead of a face, she was applying the ground.

The result was less than encouraging. Her hand changed, yes, but when she looked up to meet the warrior Aislyn’s eyes as she spoke, it began to fade. She didn’t have to look back down to know that the details on the illusion had flickered out, leaving a greying hand that lacked the details she had projected onto it. On her second try, she moved her arm around, trying to figure out how to keep the projection in place without seeming stoic or returning to visibility. The end result was something that looked more like intense camouflage than a true illusion. She’d need to practice it, and watch whatever it was she was making invisible rather closely, along with whatever was behind the invisible subject. There were a thousand tiny details that she could easily miss, and thus give herself away. Or someone could move in an unexpected way, causing an assorted arm or leg to suddenly stick out and draw attention.
Even that, however, was more inconspicuous than the alternative of nothing.

Turning her hand over, Aislyn squinted, concentrating. She could get the hang of this, but it would take time. Time they didn’t have.
”So it’s possible. We’ll just need to be careful-” Interrupted by her younger self’s voice, Aislyn dropped the illusion, her arm gently flickering back into view. The illusionist sighed, reluctantly giving herself the attention she demanded. Had her younger self really always been so… Happy?

"I remember some stuff, like Taji and what ham tastes like.”
At first, Aislyn ignored the words. Until that name caught her attention, freezing her in place. Taji. It had been a long, long time since Aislyn had heard that name. Four years? Five years? Long enough for her to have realized how untrustworthy people were, shut herself in her house with a hundred pieces of charcoal and a thousand pieces of paper, and not emerged until her twentieth birthday.
In a stunned silence, the woman blinked, her eyes drawn from the smaller child that had shocked her to the taller woman she held onto. In a sudden moment of realization, all thoughts of illusionism and invisibility and whatever concentration she had slipped from her mind.

”You…”
We’re… you… Aren’t we?
”...I never created you. You... you’re different-”
Maya and Thief had been consciously created by Aislyn, each serving a different purpose. Even the younger Aislyn had been created on a whim, to make a bad day a bit better. But the warrior woman; the illusionist had never made herself look like that. She wouldn't have- she couldn't change her body weight or height without being easily found out. Yet there the woman stood, looking a heck of a lot like someone Aislyn used to know.

Interrupted by her younger equivalents approach, Aislyn looked down at the child, then back up at the taller woman. The small girl was so happy. So unaware.
So Aislyn.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. Her eyes meeting the smaller girl's. Softly, she asked a seemingly unrelated question.
”How old are you?”

If the fact that she was an illusion truly didn’t matter, she must have adopted some age, shouldn’t she? She didn’t have the mark, meaning she was younger than fifteen. Though that was given, considering how young she looked. But she had to be older than ten, considering her ability with the crossbow. But whatever the smaller girl said, Aislyn didn't pay particular interest. She had the smaller girl almost entirely figured out. It was the mystery woman she was worried about. She turned towards the older woman,
”And you- How old are you?”

Maya and Thief were easy. They were the same age as Aislyn, as they always had been and always would be. They may look less or more, but overall were the same. However, the other two were unfamiliar to her. Younger, and older. In her head, Aislyn quickly searched her memory for dates. For birthdays. For Taji.
He would have been sixty-four this fall. The warrior woman certainly didn’t look sixty-four, but then again, neither did Taji. And he had been, what, six years younger than that when Aislyn had last seen him? He’d been ten years younger when she’d first met him, when she remembered him the most. If this woman- the warrior woman- was truly a projection of Taji onto herself, the age could be… Muddled. Somewhere in between twenty and sixty seven.
That was a rather large margin of error.

Dragging her attention from the mystery at hand, Aislyn forced herself to look at Thief, regardless of how the woman and the girl answered. At the illusion’s mention of suspicion, she cast another glance over at the warrior woman and the little Aislyn. But Thief was right, they didn’t have time for it. She was already wasting time that could have been spent practicing her illusion.

Begrudgingly, she nodded. They had to move. Whether her illusion was ready or not, she had to use what they had and somehow make it past whatever was waiting for them. Preferably, they'd make it through alive. After all, every entity in Aislyn's presence was herself in some way, shape, or form. Who knew if she could feel their injuries if they got hurt, or if their death would affect her life. She had to guard them as if their pain would be hers, regardless of how true that really was.

”...Be as quiet as you can, alright? And stick together.”

She wasn’t sure how long she could hold up an illusion like what she was attempting. The first few ticks were fine, but it became increasingly obvious to her that she’d need to continue looking back at her misfit group of travellers in order to keep the illusion up, which was rather counterproductive to seeing where she was going. Not to mention the fact that she herself had to be hidden, adding another layer of headache on top of a migraine of an illusion.

As her head pounded harder, she tried to reach any divine power she could to bring her strength.

Ionu, my deity, if you can hear this, as I pray you still can…
I’m not sure where you are right now, nor your representatives in the Womiyu. Your influence is ever-present, as it always is, yet this doesn’t seem like an illusion of your style. People are truly hurting, my deity, if not dying. There has been more death this season than I can remember, and that was only in the Alvadas of before. This Alvadas… This is different. More dangerous, of course, as I feel and hear already. The city falling ill, and the fragility of the illusions… Hazard is around every corner, as I am finding right now. But in this new world, if nothing else, I pray you allow my power to be enough to let us pass.

Unquestioning in faith,
Aislyn.

[Fable]

The child didn't seem to hear the question, finding a particularly interesting rock on the ground that served to sever any hope of conversation either of them might have had. Squatting down to poke at the rock with her small, soft fingers, the girl hummed absentmindedly, a tune that was familiar if only due to the voice that gave it life. The woman, however, grinned back, arms crossed and eyes alight with an all too familiar glimmer of mischief, the kind that, recently, had been lacking from Aislyn's more reserved countenances. "You're looking like you know about as much as I do." She shook her head, bushy hair waving back and fourth a tick behind the motion. "I'd say about forty or so, give or take a decade." Shrugging, her grin faded slightly, eyes softening just a bid. "Age was never something I was meant to contemplate, I think."

They fell into line behind her, Aislyn at the lead then Thief, Maya, little Aislyn, and the warrior woman at the rear, as they moved, however, the others grew closer and closer. As Aislyn let her focus turn inwards, each of the woman stepped into her, their bodies melding into hers in a soft shimmer of blue light. When Thief rejoined her at the end of the prayer, her voice was soft in reply, echoing through Aislyn's head like a errant thought, only one that was easily followed.
A shadow is cast by even the brightest of stars; darkness is as necessary to light as sickness is to health.

Maya followed, a fluid transition as the women disappeared back, presumably, into the source they had been drawn from. Her voice was soft and soothing, ever the warming presence. Life is nothing more than a mask that death dawns, and like all masks, it is eventually removed. The act is what matters.

Then, it was the child's turn, her voice ringing through Aislyn's mind like a tinkle of bells, bright and lively. Danger is just another kind of adventure! Don't let fear fool you, it's just a small part of the game! Her laughter echoed through the silence, a warmth radiating out from her within her chest, like the gentle moments of a blissful morning.

Next the warrior woman spoke, her voice stern but matronly, affection in every word yet still they were filled with a sturdiness that resounded through Aislyn's mind like the ring of a gong. Power is the greatest illusion of all, the strong are not counted among the great, yet the great are counted among the strong. A path is only a limitation.

As she found herself no longer surrounded by the familiar and unfamiliar faces of those she had set out to protect, there was a final face, one that, even had she wanted to, she could not forget. He was the same as before, dressed in nothing but the stiff white collar and horns, only where before he had displayed a modicum of modesty, he simply stood directly in her path, eyes drifting between an aggressive leer and a gentle gaze as he regarded her, fingertips pressed gently against his lips. There was nothing about him that even seemed particularly out of place, as the surrounding wreckage of the world around her seemed to fade from detail, becoming a blurred, peripheral entity of blacks and reds and blues. He did not speak, not for the longest time. Instead, he only watched - and presumably waited, though it was unclear with his shifting posture and glaring nudity - choosing to speak only a tick before Aislyn herself, interrupting whatever words she might have thought to direct towards him.

"Do you feel that?" His fingers extended forward, grasping at the empty air in a gesture to silence whatever protests the other woman might have thought to give rise to. "I had thought you..." His voice faded, brows knitting in either concern or frustration. "What you were you are, but you didn't when you should have... Still you did when I thought you might not, only it wasn't what it was, what it should. It was... What it could?" He shook his head, the pile of curls atop his head shifting slightly, an errant strand falling to settle against the side of his pale cheek. "Wrong and right, like day and night, I fear. Are you positive, she who was Aislyn but wasn't and isn't but is. Is this the path you take? To be? To do?"

As he spoke, a door appeared between them. It was of the same size and shape of the one she had passed through before, only it was made of glass, the triangle a slightly darker shade, yet still equally as reflective as the shimmering substance that surrounded it. "Or is this a did? Shall you not? What is potential if it is lost? Is it a gain or a futility, I wonder." He leaned against the door's glimmering frame, arms folded across his hairy, bare chest as his eyes moved slowly up and down her body, a carnal lust flickering between a gentle love. "There is only one question that really matters in the end, is there not?"

Another door appeared directly to his right, identical to the other in every respect, right down the nature in which the portals seemed to shift beneath some unseen light. "Will you or won't you?"

Rather than before, the man remained, eyes watching hers with an urgency that seemed to shift between an apathetic nonchalance. The door to her right, which the strange horned man leaned against, would show her a reflection of herself as she was: Aislyn. The door to her left, which had appeared second, would show her a reflection of her other selves, a different face each time she let her eyes close to flutter open again. In both, the reflections spoke to her, only there were no words and lips moved too fast to tell what it was they said. Both seemed to speak with a pleading desperation, and the longer she gazed, the more frantic the reflections would become.

[Aislyn Leavold]

As they ventured out into the fray, Aislyn tried to think over what had happened, and what she had learned. Who she had met.
Simply put, she had found herself. In the midst of a battle, the possible end, she’d met herself, learned how she saw things. Discovered that her illusions were far more than just illusions. They had minds of their own, minds that Aislyn merely puppeteered whenever they were in play. They felt things, just as she did. They could form opinions, remember memories, dissect words and argue, much to Aislyn’s dismay.

Thief disliked Phobius, young Aislyn still loved Taji, Maya cared about people far more than Aislyn did, and the warrior… The warrior woman was something special. Something forgotten, but not anymore. No matter how little she might have been wanted the memory back.

But as the illusionist continued on, the colours of the illusions; the white of Maya, the black of Thief, the yellow of young Aislyn, and the blue of the warrior woman, all began to blend together. Aislyn couldn’t hear their footsteps anymore, but somehow couldn’t bring herself to look back. She hadn’t lost them, that much was certain. They were still with her, as they always would be. Unforgettable, in her mind.

As unforgettable as the man that stood before her.

The horned man was back. The man of twisted words and even more twisted implications. The man that Aislyn had convinced herself must have been Ionu themself, but then gone back on her thoughts when she pondered it again. For all she knew, the horned man was another speaker, or a listener, or a silencer. All that was certain was that he knew something Aislyn didn’t, and was a face she couldn’t rid herself of. Not that she had tried.

As she approached, her silence grew heavy in the air, his light words dancing above them. Again, as before, she could barely understand what he was saying, but still gathered some meaning from them. She who was Aislyn but wasn’t and isn’t but is. That was her. But as far as the woman knew, she was Aislyn. Or was that an illusion too?
It was entirely possible that she, was in fact, just an illusion all along. That would be a rather upsetting discovery. Then again, that was the discovery she’d sprung on Maya and Thief chimes before. And now that she knew that they felt things, it was easy to see how they would feel. Or did they already know?

”This is… This was…”

Petch, everything was so confusing.
Perhaps words weren’t the best idea at the moment. She had to figure out what was going on, first, before she tried to make any sort of decision.
Except, of course, as soon as she made that resolution, she was faced with a decision. And the words, once again, the words that haunted her from seasons before.

”Will you or won’t you?"

Last time, the decision had seemed easy. A descent into adventure. The daring choice, the one with an air of mystery behind it. The dark option, with the necessary light left behind.
But this time, it wasn’t obvious which path led to danger, and which to salvation. If there was such a clear choice at all. It was possible they both led to the same place, or back to the ring-Alvadas, or deeper into apocalypse-Alvadas. Anything was possible, in fact, and that was the problem. She couldn’t choose the right option if neither appeared to be right, and if that was the case, both decisions were wrong.
Or… Right?
Or both.

Looking to the first door, the one to the right, Aislyn caught her reflection as she approached, at first, apparently mirroring her movements, but after ticks, breaking free. The reflection Aislyn began miming words, sentences, or perhaps just gibberish, she couldn’t tell. Whatever she was saying, she was saying fast, and despite Aislyn's best efforts she couldn't make out the words. As she leaned closer, reflection-Aislyn moved closer as well, pressing her hands to the glass, as if trying to find freedom. As if begging to be freed.

In the second door, she found a similar sense of foreboding. Except this time, a different face. Maya. No, Thief. No, no, again, it changed. Every time her focus was drawn away, a different illusion appeared. They, too, were trapped, as if they had been pulled from the existence Aislyn had met them in, and into the reflection in the door. Their words echoed in her head, and their mouths mimed just as the other reflection had, at the same pace and the same urgency, the same pleading motion. A wish for the same freedom.

As her eyes flickered back and forth between the doors, Aislyn tried to look to the horned man for some input- any input, but he just watched her with a gaze the woman didn’t particularly enjoy. He wouldn’t help her. This was her decision to make.
But what was the decision? Was she choosing lies, or the truth? Or illusions over normalcy? Adventure over abstention? Was there a weight in her decision, or did it not matter at all?
Would she lose her ability to use her illusions if she chose herself?
Would she lose herself if she chose her illusions?

In an anxious move, Aislyn’s hand creeped up to her neck, as if to repeat the old habit of opening and closing her locket, only for her fingers to fall upon the caught clasp of the Eye.
There is a face for every occasion.
If there was some lesson to be learned here, must have had something with a moral. A moral that would make her choose truth over lies, herself over illusions.

Again, wordlessly, Aislyn met the Horned Man’s eyes. Will you or won’t you?
Will you or won’t you play my game?

It was entirely possible for the woman to turn away, to refuse to choose a door. But that would leave her left in the wasteland, as presumably every other man, woman, and beast that had stepped through the door had been. That left no room for mystery, or adventure. So of course she had to play the game, but she refused to take a moral from it. She wouldn’t let the words of a stranger force her out of hiding.
She wouldn’t choose what was expected of her, out of spite or something deeper.

With one last look over at the other door, Aislyn caught another glimpse of her reflection, silently screaming against the shimmering glass. The reflection knew she had made her decision. There was no turning back now.
Aislyn chose the illusions.

[Fable]

The door opened at a single touch, swinging back upon invisible hinges, to reveal a familiar room. The world behind her, the one of shadows and darkness and doors, faded like a fleeting thought, disappearing the moment her foot found itself planted firmly on the worn wood of her long time home. Only, it wasn't quite exactly the way it should have been, or rather it was but wasn't what it was, instead what it might have been. The walls were still covered in drawings, but the drawings were far more alive than they were before, in fact they moved and shifted, little charcoal creatures dancing and gliding through the mess of papers big and small. Some were lumbering and clumsy, their lines and forms childish and restrictive, while others were elegant and fluid, a testament to the skill and control of their creation. Among them were very few colors, though here and there was a sunset or two, faded and distant.

Maria's bed was situated in the middle of the room, the table that typically occupied the space sat tucked into the corner, swapped with the oddly plush looking comforter and carefully carved bed frame. The windows looked out into a slow, drifting field of muted blues and purples, extending out as far as the eye could see should it stop to do so, and the rest of the furniture was where it was supposed to be, or nearly to it. While the changes were, in a city that was almost never the same, minimal in comparison, there was a very distinct difference between the home Aislyn had left earlier that day to the one she currently stood in: there were two of her.

It wasn't the same as before with Maya and her other illusions. There, settled comfortably on the edge of Maria's bed, sat an almost copy of the young woman who had just passed through the door which had shut in the tick it had taken her to pass through, the handle immediately finding itself in a two-dimension predicament and thus becoming little more than a clever sketch on wood. The other Aislyn wasn't quite that of the current: her hair was lighter, almost glistening in the hearty light of the hearth; her eyes were brighter, dark crimson crescents that glittered with amusement as she met Aislyn's stare; even her skin seemed smoother, finer, and there was an elegance to her poise that seemed to imply that the room around them was her's rather than the near identical newcomer's. When she spoke, it was with the same voice, only it wasn't; there was confidence in her appearance, in who she was, in who she could become. "I wondered when I'd be seeing you next, Aislyn Leavold."

She patted the bed next to her, inviting the other woman to sit if she wished. A small grin spread across her features, the sharp teeth a bright pearl between her sun kissed lips as she let out a small chuckle, shaking her head slightly as she sighed the last bit. "I can't say I'm impressed, but... Maybe I'm not quite disappointed either." A hand flicked in a vague gesture towards the wall where a very lifelike figure study of the horned man stood vigilant, his eyes as searching and aloof as ever, perfectly captured in charcoal, ink, and waxy pigments. "Not many people have had the privilege of having a conversation with Almos." She raised a brow, mischief playing in her eyes as a teasing grin spread across her features. "And you've managed twice already. Three times the charm?" Another chuckled escaped her merry features as she leaned back onto the bed, her arms bent to keep her from lying all the way down as she admired the rendition of the horned man, gaze lingering as she spoke again, the playfulness of tone light and airy. "He is rather handsome, don't you think? Perhaps he's taking a liking to you?"

There was more laughter before she cut herself short, a sharp round of rasping coughs causing a pause in the merriment as she lurched forward, spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the ground with a wet slap of ruby against the rustic umber of the floorboards. Wiping the corner of her mouth, she only managed to smear the few drops that hadn't quite cleared her lips, painting her visage in a vaguely feral image as she offered an apologetic smile. "Excuse me. It's been a difficult year for us." Taking a deep breath, the other Aislyn composed herself before she spoke again, her eyes still bright but her tone several shades darker. "Why are you here, with me, Aislyn Leavold?" She looked around the room, brow raised as if expecting there to be more than the shifting images and detailed sketch of the horned man. "Didn't you pass through the door where the others were waiting for you?"