Chapter 5:2 Illusions and the Roots of Reality
The following days were filled with a strict routine. Mornings were for physical training and survival skills. The Master taught us how to move silently in this new environment, how to identify edible and dangerous plants (knowledge extremely useful given our limited food supplies), and the basics of knife fighting for Max, who had no experience whatsoever.
"You don't need to be a swordsman," the Master said as Max struggled to hold a knife correctly. "You need to know how to stab something trying to eat you and how to run away. That's all."
Noon was for theory and lessons about the world of the Ars. The Master explained the hierarchy of the Order of Thymol: from ordinary Scouts, to Inquisitors (like Hadrian), up to Purifiers—elite witch-hunters specialized in destroying powerful forbidden practitioners. He talked about Imperial politics, about various other sects and orders, about ancient myths concerning the Source of the Vars Eyes.
"It is said to be a gift and a curse from an entity sleeping among the stars," he murmured one afternoon, sharpening his long knife on a whetstone. "A fragment of its consciousness that fell into our world. Others say it is the next evolutionary stage of human sight, emerging only under extreme stress. Whatever the truth, the Order purges it because it is uncontrollable and, most importantly, does not come from their 'God'. It threatens their monopoly on the supernatural."
Max, who always listened intently, asked, "So… you two aren't evil wizards who eat children?"
The Master glared. "Do we look like we eat children? We use what we have to survive. Morality is a luxury for those living behind safe walls."
Evenings were for illusion practice for me and emotional sensing practice for Max. The Master taught Max how to focus his 'feeling', distinguish between his own emotions and those of others, and most importantly, how to cloak or minimize his own emotional emission—a skill that could save his life from creatures like Night Seekers.
Our progress was slow but steady. I could now maintain a simple visual illusion, disguising a rock as wood, or making a small puddle look like a patch of grass—for nearly a minute, even for Max. I also learned to 'disguise' my own vital aura, making it appear dimmer and less attractive, though not yet as masterfully as the Master's near-invisibility.
Max, on the other hand, proved to be a sharp student in his empathy. He could reliably tell if the Master (in practice) was lying or telling the truth, based solely on his 'feeling'. He even began to sense the emotions of small animals around the sanctuary.
One night, about a week after our arrival, things changed.
We were sitting around a small fire (the Master had built a hidden air channel for the smoke), eating a mushroom stew. Max suddenly straightened, his face pale.
"There's something," he whispered, his eyes wide towards the entrance! "Angry. Very, very angry. And… Hungry. It's coming."
The Master was on his feet instantly, listening. I activated my Vars Eyes and directed them towards the cliff. I saw no aura from outside—the sanctuary walls indeed blocked it. But I could feel a faint vibration in the ground.
Then, a roaring sound shook the air, so loud it made dust particles fall from the ceiling. Not the sound of a normal beast. It was deep, reverberating, and full of uncontrolled rage.
"Forest Drakonid," murmured the Master, his face for the first time showing genuine tension. "An apex predator. Large, intelligent, and immune to most direct magic. This sanctuary should be outside its territory."
RrrrrR!
A second roar, closer. the stone sealing our entrance rumbled.
"Can it get in?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"No. The stone is reinforced with diagrams. But it can besiege us for days, or draw unwanted attention if the fight becomes too noisy." His grey eyes glinted. "This is no coincidence. Drakonids hunt by scent and vibration. But it shouldn't be interested in this scentless rock." He looked at us both, then focused on Max. "Unless it is sensing something else. Strong emotion, fear radiating like a beacon."
Max flinched, his face full of guilt. "I… I was thinking about the village. About the burning. It made me… very afraid."
"You did not cloak it," said the Master, not as an accusation, but a statement of fact. "And perhaps, your previous emotional trail has drawn it to this area. Drakonids are known to have long memories for the 'taste' of potential prey."
The Drakonid roared again, and this time it was accompanied by a harsh scratching sound on the entrance stone. It was like metal claws on rock.
"What do we do?" asked Max, his voice hoarse.
The Master thought for a moment. "We cannot kill it. The fight would be too loud and bloody, and might injure us as well. We must drive it away. Deceive it." He looked at me. "Apprentice. This is the true test. The illusion you create must deceive not just a human, but a creature with wolf-like intelligence and far sharper senses."
"I'm not ready," I said, and it was the truth.
"Your readiness is irrelevant. Need is relevant. We will do it together. I will handle the sensory illusions—scent, ground vibration. You, focus on the visual illusion. We will create something larger, angrier, and more dangerous than the Drakonid. A predator even it fears."
The plan was insane. The Master explained quickly. We would open the entrance stone just a crack, wide enough to project our illusion outward. I was to create the visual illusion of a "Felswurm", a giant worm-like stone creature said to conflict with Drakonids. The Master would create the illusion of its musky smell and the ground vibration of its movement.
"Max," said the Master. "Your task is most critical. The Drakonid is intelligent. It will sense our fear. You must project the opposite feeling. Anger. Absolute confidence. That WE are the predators here. Feel my emotion, follow my lead, and amplify that projection. Direct it at him."
Max nodded, trembling but with determination in his eyes.
We took positions near the door. At the Master's signal, he pressed a lever, and the stone slab shifted about a foot, opening a narrow vertical crack. The dark night, the scent of damp earth, and a pungent, fishy stench—the Drakonid's smell—assaulted us.
Outside, in the faint moonlight, I saw it. It was bear-sized, with a crocodile-like scaled body, a lizard-like head with rows of curved fangs, and glowing yellow eyes full of vicious intelligence. Its axe-like claws had left deep gouges in the rock around the entrance.
It saw the crack and approached, sniffing.
"Now!" hissed the Master.
I closed my physical eyes and opened my Vars Eyes fully. I extended my vital energy through the crack, imagining the Felswurm. Not just its image, but its essence: a living rock creature moving through earth like a fish through water, indifferent and hungry. I shaped the illusion of its long, segmented body, its rotating stone maw, its soulless crystal eyes. I projected it into the space before the Drakonid, making it seem to emerge from the ground.
Beside me, I felt the Master exerting his power. The scent of earth suddenly shifted to one of metal and crushed stone. The ground outside vibrated, as if something massive was moving beneath it.
And from Max, I felt a wave of… not emotion, but assertion. A hard statement projected outward: "THIS IS OUR TERRITORY. LEAVE."
The Drakonid halted. Its glowing yellow eyes shifted from the crack to the Felswurm illusion I was crafting. It looked up, seeing the giant stone creature seemingly looming over it. It sniffed, and felt the vibrations from the Master. Its intelligent animal brain processed: visual threat, scent threat, vibration threat, plus the wave of unshakable confidence and dominance radiating from within the sanctuary.
It snorted, low and uncertain. I was sweating, maintaining the illusion felt like pushing a cart full of stones uphill. My Felswurm image flickered briefly, and the Drakonid took a half-step forward, suspicious.
Then, Max groaned, focusing everything he had. I felt an almost physical wave of anger—a genuine anger at his own fear, at the Order, at everything that had happened to him. It was wrapped in a projection of absolute superiority.
The Drakonid roared, but this time there was a different tone—challenge, but also wariness. It took a step back. My Felswurm illusion hissed (a sound the Master created perfectly, like grinding stones), and made a sudden lurching motion.
That was enough. The Drakonid's survival instinct, faced with a seemingly larger and stranger threat, took over. With a low growl that sounded almost like a grumble, the creature turned, and with heavy, ground-shaking steps, it disappeared into the forest darkness.
The Master immediately closed the stone door. The room fell silent again, save for our ragged breaths.
I collapsed, drained. Max was trembling violently, but there was a new light in his eyes—the light of success. He had used his 'curse' as a weapon.
The Master looked at us both, and for the first time, his usually flat expression showed something akin to approval. "Good," he said, simply. "Both of you. The illusion was crude but effective. The emotional projection was primitive but potent. You worked… together."
He walked to the pool, scooped water, and drank. "The Drakonid will not return. It has marked this place as a rival's territory too dangerous. But this is a reminder. This sanctuary protects us from sight, not from the consequences of what we carry. Max, you must learn to control your emission as others learn to control their voice. And you," he looked at me, "must learn to create illusions that are not only seen, but believed on an instinctual level. You both have passed the test of blood and shadow. Now, the real test begins: surviving not just the enemy without, but the weakness within."
That night, as I lay on my straw pallet, listening to the quiet sound of water, I pondered his words. Weakness within. For Max, it was his uncontrolled fear. For me? Perhaps it was my hesitation, my dependence on the Master, or maybe a hidden worry that one day, these Vars Eyes would consume me entirely.
But today, we had succeeded. Not by running or hiding, but by confronting a direct threat using the skills we were learning. I looked at my hand, and with my Vars Eyes, I saw my silver-blue flow. It was still strong, still turbulent. But now, there were flecks of green shimmering within it—growth, adaptation. And from Max, sleeping across the room, his greyish-blue aura was now threaded with thin filaments of golden yellow—the seeds of confidence.
We were no longer just an apprentice and a frightened slave. We were becoming something else. Something that, under the guidance of this mysterious and ruthless teacher, might just survive in a world that wanted us purged.
The next test would come. But for the first time, I felt we might be ready to face it.