Nalrond refused to believe her and thought that Morok was just playing a prank on them. Blinking away was a cheap trick that anyone could do whereas only a few selected individuals could commune with Mogar.
He extended his hands in a similar way to that he had used back when Faluel had tried to teach him Spirit Magic. The Fringe was right in front of him and Mogar’s essence was so strong that it took him a single attempt to establish a link.
A thousand voices flooded his mind, some ancient and other new, yet he could understand them all. A normal person would have become mad or died of shock due to the flood of different personalities talking at the same time.
The stronger one’s ego was, the harder the impact would be. Resisting the stampede of foreign thoughts, experiences, and beliefs was impossible. Instead of fighting them, Nalrond let them flow while focusing on his own name.
A single word that encompassed his past as well as his future. Once most of the voices disappeared, only one remained. It asked him several personal questions, some simple, others more complicated, but to each one of them, he had to answer sincerely, no matter how painful it was.
‘Why did you leave?’ Mogar asked.
‘For revenge. There was nothing left for me here.’ Nalrond replied.
‘Then why did you return?’
‘To see my home one last time before moving forward and to help my companions.’ Nalrond’s last answer gave him access to the Fringe and to the surprise it held.
‘Are they really so important to you?’
‘No, but I hope they will be. Hope is all I have left.’
After Nalrond thought those words, he could see Morok standing a few meters from him, gesturing to the air as if he was having an argument with an imaginary friend.
“What the heck are you doing?” Nalrond asked.
“Trying to convince this jackass of a planet of letting the girls in, or at least Quylla. After I got back in, I understood that it doesn’t make sense to get out again until- Great Mother almighty, what’s that?” Morok pointed right above Nalrond’s head.
A giant figure resembling his Rezar half floated in mid-air, clawing at the human half while weeping non-stop.
“It’s just my Soul Projection. Everyone gets one inside a Fringe, even you.” Nalrond looked above Morok’s head just to see empty air. “How did you do it?”
“How did I do what?”
“Never mind.” Nalrond returned outside, too shocked to waste any more time.
“I’ve got bad news and I’ve got good news. The bad news is that you were right, Morok somehow got in so we’ll have to bring him along. The good news is that the Fringe is still here and looks exactly like I remembered it.
“Which means that either some of my clansmen survived or that Mogar decided it still has a purpose. Whatever the reason, before crossing over to the other side, I must warn you. Inside a Fringe, you can’t hide your true nature.
“If you decide to get in, you’ll be forced to confront with a part of yourselves you’ve probably avoided your entire life. To make matters worse, it will be visible to others as well.” Nalrond said.
“What do you mean? Is it something like reading the mind of other people with a mind link?” Quylla asked.
“No. It’s just that as long as you’re inside a Fringe, you are also under Mogar’s gaze. It causes a phenomenon that Werepeople call Soul Projection which’s the manifestation of how your mind looks like.
“It can’t speak or interact with the physical world, but it can still reveal your true feelings and thoughts. If you still want to follow me inside the Fringe, just take my hand one at a time.” Nalrond closed his eyes and half of his body disappeared as if an invisible blade had cut him asunder.
Yet there was no blood nor visible wound, only faint traces of world energy where his missing body was supposed to be. The girls stared at him in awe, waving their hands in the empty space to look for a dimensional door but finding only air.
No matter how much she searched with her spells, Friya only sensed cold waves that became more intense the more she came close to Nalrond.
The moment she touched his extended hand, Friya felt a sensation hundreds of times worse than that she had experienced while deciphering the barrier. Mogar shared with her countless lives, forcing Friya to relieve every moment of them.
Joy, pain, love, and hatred for people that she had never seen before flooded her mind until she simply forgot who she was, becoming just one mind in a crowd of many. With oblivion came peace, reliving Friya from the worries of the living.
The sensation lasted barely for a second, but when she entered the Fringe, her entire life flashed in front of her eyes. As her self-awareness returned so did her memories, making Friya puke her guts out.
Happiness faded quickly whereas all the mistakes and failures that had scarred her in ways that even light magic couldn’t heal them assaulted her mind at the same time until life seemed too painful a burden to bear it anymore.
“Careful with that blade.” Morok’s voice snapped Friya out of it while his hand stopped hers before she could hurt herself with a combat knife that was now millimeters away from her throat.
“I’m sorry Yurial. I tried to resist Nalear’s orders, but I wasn’t strong enough. It’s all my fault you died. I don’t deserve to live.” Quylla had Bloodbind wrap around her own neck, to break it with a single squeeze of the Adamant chains.
“For the gods’ sake, don’t just stand there, Nalrond!” Morok shapeshifted into his Tyrant form, knowing that a flimsy human body had no chance to slow down the weapon, let alone stop it.
He put the hand that wasn’t grabbing Friya’s knife between the chains and Quylla’s neck, as if he wanted to strangle her. Bloodbind’s sudden grip managed to crack the Tyrant’s hand, but thanks to his thick skin and dense muscles, Quylla didn’t suffer a scratch.
“Oh gods, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have done it.” She said, snapping out of it the moment she saw his pained expression and heard the sound of breaking bones.
“It’s nothing.” Morok healed his injury with light fusion, yet refused to move his hand away until Bloodbind disappeared under her sleeves. “At least I got to feel your smooth skin. You’ve got a pretty neck, you know?”
“What?” Quylla blushed. “No, I mean you really shouldn’t. After what happened with Nalear, my Dad always enchants our weapons so that they cannot wound a member of the Ernas family. Bloodbind can’t hurt me nor Friya.”
“What about Friya’s knife?” Morok asked.
“Dad didn’t make it. You saved her life.” Quylla gave him a small bow of gratitude before turning to the Rezar in anger. “Why the heck didn’t you warn us? We could have died right off the bat!”
“I did.” Nalrond was pale as a ghost. Bringing two people inside had taken a toll on him. “I told you that you would be forced to face an ugly part of yourselves. I just didn’t expect that your wounds run so deep that they would endanger your lives.”
