“What do you mean?” Morok asked while returning human.
“The moment someone steps inside the barrier, their consciousness is assaulted by Mogar’s. Without the proper training, the mind of feeble beings like us gets crushed and our personality disappears.
“To let the girls inside the Fringe, I had to open a way while drawing on myself most of Mogar’s attention. It allowed them to slip in unnoticed and to experience solely a split-second of pressure before the weight on their minds disappeared.
“On the other hand, even brief exposure to Mogar’s will is dangerous. To separate their personalities from those imbued in the barrier, they had to relive all the traumatic events of their lives.
“Whatever made them the persons that they are today, they lived it all in one go, without a moment to grieve their dead or collect themselves. I knew it might be traumatic, but I never expected that two pampered noble ladies could carry such a heavy burden.
“The link that I used to protect the girls forced me to experience part of their grief along with my own, almost killing me.” Nalrond said.
“Who gave you the right to pry into our past like that? You should have asked for our permission.” Friya freed her hand from Morok’s grip and pointed the knife at the Rezar’s throat.
All the self-loathe she felt had turned into an unbridled rage that needed a way to vent. Nalrond’s soft human skin made an excellent target.
“I didn’t see anything. I only experience your pain.” He replied while looking her in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought you and your sister were respectively a woman unhappy with her life and a magic enthusiast, not two walking sacks of grief.”
“At least you are honest.” Friya snarled while putting the knife away. “Don’t assume that you’re the only one with a sad past just because we don’t wear our hearts on our sleeve as you do.”
“Correction. Now you do.” Morok pointed above Friya’s and Quylla’s head where now floated two spectral figures.
While Nalrond had an angry, weeping Rezar coming out of his shoulders, Friya’s Soul Projection represented a young woman burdened with heavy chains secured by a lock.
The woman held the key in her hands, yet she just stared at it dumbly as blood tears streamed down her eyes. Quylla, instead, had an image of herself dressed with the deep violet robe of a Magus.
The Projection looked happy, yet as soon as it tried to cast a spell, her fingers turned into snakes that devoured her inside out. Then, the slithering mass of snakes turned into her body and the cycle started anew.
“Wow, straight for the Magus. Confident much?” Morok said.
“What the heck are those things and how do we make them disappear?” Friya asked while blushing up to her ears.
Aside from the chains, her avatar didn’t wear anything.
“I told you, those are your Soul Projections.” Nalrond’s voice sounded cold, with no trace of his earlier guilt.
“You can’t make them disappear until you resolve the issue they represent. I hoped that seeing them might help you both, but now I realize that bringing you are was a mistake. Feel free to leave.”
“Why do you say that?” Quylla asked.
“Because that’s exactly as Acala’s Projection looked like.” Nalrond pointed at the chained maiden above Friya’s head.
“The image of a person burdened by the expectations of others. Someone who is so afraid of discovering they are the real source of their own misery that they prefer to keep wearing the chains.”
Those words took Friya aback, making her rage turn into shame.
‘Am I really the kind of person that would sacrifice dozens of innocent people just to feel good with themselves? I mean, sure, becoming Faluel’s Harbinger isn’t much different from bonding with Dawn, but at least I’m endangering only myself.
‘At least until Faluel doesn’t order me to kill people.’ She thought, discovering that the parallel between her condition and that of the traitorous Ranger ran deep.
Both of them were so disappointed with themselves that they were willing to give up on their freedom just to fill the void in their souls rather than trying to fix their problems.
“What about Quylla’s?” Morok asked.
“I don’t know. The elders interpreted our Projections to help us overcome our limits, but even they failed to get rid of their own inner demons. The real question is how can you not have one?” Nalrond placed his index and middle finger on Morok’s forehead.
The Rezar had lived most of his life inside the Fringe, making him an expert in manipulating the dense world energy filled with Mogar’s will that surrounded them. With a deep breath, he conjured the planet’s attention on Morok for a split second, making his Projection appear.
It looked like a perfect copy of Morok that moved and spoke in unison with him when he said:
“It’s easy. Unlike you lot, I’m happy with myself.” The two Moroks shrugged while becoming one again. “Now if you’re done arguing, we might as well enjoy the scenery. This place is much better than that crappy desert.”
With all that had happened, none of them had the time to notice the beauty of the Fringe. Tall grass with orange streaks grew under their feet, rustled by a gentle spring breeze carrying the smell of rain.
The luxurious green meadows extended as far as the eye could see, but they were far from empty. The group had appeared near several fruit trees with blue streaks covering their brown bark.
Their branches were filled with ripe fruits whose delicious smell made them hungry.
Small animals resembling silver furred chinchillas came out of their burrows while bright feathered birds came to look at the newcomers. The noise made them curious rather than scared because they had never met humans before.
“By the Great Mother, this is bigger than Lutia.” Friya said while staring at their surroundings in awe. Discovering that Mogar itself was actually the first dimensional mage made her proud of her profession.
“Yeah. And those woods make Trawn look like a garden in comparison.” Quylla pointed at the thick mass of tall trees visible at the horizon.
“What?” Those words made Nalrond snap out of his reverie. The contact with Morok had flooded him with peace, making the Rezar forget all about his newfound distrust for Friya and lose himself in past memories.
The scents, the sounds, and the sight of his lost home had triggered so many memories that Nalrond had failed to notice the warm tears streaming down his own eyes.
“There are no woods in this Fringe, just fruit trees. On top of that, I can assure you that it’s not that big. Fringes never extend beyond what they need to host the creatures they are meant to protect.” Yet he only had to follow Quylla’s finger to realize that she was right.
The Fringe was as he remembered it, yet it was also different. Nalrond shapeshifted into his Rezar form, to use his animal senses to understand how deep the changes were. He could smell things both old and new.
The wind carried the scent of trees he had never met even in the outside world, of flowers that didn’t belong to his home, but also the faint smell of freshly baked bread and the noise of children playing in the open.
