After an hour of brisk riding, they finally arrived at Allsgorath City. It emerged abruptly from the towering trees, a large floating island nestled amid a deafening, tumultuous river that seemed to be covered by a perpetual fog. As they drew closer, Lyrael realized the veracity of her acquaintances’ warnings about the treacherous currents and untamed rapids of the Allsgorath.
     Despite the darkness, the dim glow from the torches lining the walls revealed glimpses of the perilous rapids below, adding an eerie ambiance. She couldn’t help but marvel at the resilience of the city, withstanding the relentless force of the river that threatened to erode its very foundations. She assumed that whatever kept the island anchored to the riverbed was also keeping the island from simply eroding away.
     “Oh, by the way,” Tsarra called for Lyrael as her horse approached the swaying stone bridge, which also seemed to ripple with magic. “The sewers of Allsgorath dump directly into the river, and the old filtering system doesn’t work well, if at all. So, I would heavily advise against touching or drinking the water in town.”
     Lyrael’s nose scrunched in disgust. “That’s foul.”
     “Yeah, well, that’s Allsgorath for you.” Wynn laughed dryly. “It’s not a very bright or welcoming city. The only colors around are the caravans that come through here every week or so to sell their goods.”
     They crossed the stone bridge in just a few minutes of slow walking and passed through a stone gate manned by a pair of guards. They nodded at them as they passed, and Lyrael’s brows furrowed as she took in the dark, wet city. However, calling it a city was a bit of an exaggeration. She could just barely make out a small castle through the fog on the northern side of the island and only twenty to thirty stone houses and shops, as well as a singular two-story inn. On the outskirts of the city closest to the walls were rows of wooden shacks, where Lyrael assumed the poor lived.
     “There is a small ranch on the west side of the river where the city gets their meat and dairy from.” Tsarra motioned to a small stone building with a sign that read ‘Butcher’. “Their vegetables are all brought in from a small farming village to the northwest.”
     “I see,” Lyrael murmured as their horses’ hooves clattered on the cobblestone road. They dropped from their horses in front of the very dreary, quiet inn. The city was quiet, ominously so, and she looked around, an odd, nagging feeling pulling at the back of her mind.
     Something about this place... feels off.
     She pushed the thought away with a shake of her head. Moving toward Soni and Wynn’s horse, she helps Soni get him down from the horse. His wound was bleeding again, but it was minimal.
     The faster we get inside and sleep, the faster we wake and continue following Papa... I mean, Anwel’s trail. She thought, grimacing as she called him by his first name, something she’s never done before. I don’t have time to think about anything else.
     A set of twin boys came running from around the side of the inn and took their horses, accepting a few copper coins from Tsarra, both thanking her in unison. “Thank you, miss.”
     The group entered the inn, and the sight of a completely empty tavern welcomed them. To the right of the door was a desk, with an older Elven woman with gray-pink hair and white eyes. Lyrael quickly surmised that she was blind, as she only looked up in their general direction, but not at them.
     “Your cheapest room for four, please.” Wynn called, and the woman was silent as she opened a drawer, feeling around inside and withdrew a single key on a string. She stood and took them through a hallway, and down a set of damp stairs. She unlocked a door and revealed a dimly lit room with four uncomfortable looking cots, a door that probably led to a bathroom, and a small window on the back wall.
     “One gold each, please.”
     They each coughed up a gold coin and handed them to the woman as they passed her. Lyrael shivered as she entered the room last, jumping slightly when the old woman slammed the door behind her, the lock of the door clicking with a loud clack. Lyrael’s eyes widened, and she snapped her head toward Tsarra and the others.
     “Did she just lock us in here?” Soni whispered, perplexed.
     “Seems so,” Tsarra said, and then the three of them broke into laughter, Soni wiping tears from her cheeks. “God, I hate Allsgorath. This place is so creepy.”
     “Where did you guys come from, if not from west of the river?” Lyrael asked when they stopped laughing. She chose a cot in the furthest corner and removed her bow from her shoulder, dropping her bag onto the floor.
     Soni glanced toward Tsarra as she flopped down on one of the cots. “We came from Blackfall, a large city that’s northeast. We’re all from around that region.”
     “I come from a small village outside of Blackfall, but I spent a lot of my time as a child in the city, as my father sold our crops at a few of the Blackfall markets.” Tsarra smiled and Lyrael nodded, watching as Wynn pushed his cot closer to Soni’s.
     “Man, I wish I could bathe. It’s been days since I’ve had a good wash.” Soni moaned and laid on her cot, staring up at the ceiling.
     Her statement confused Lyrael, as Soni was a High Elf with water magic. But after a few moments of thought, she answered her own question. Based on what she saw, unlike Lyrael, Soni could not create water, only control pre-existing water. Soni couldn’t fill a tub with water like Lyrael could. She wanted to say something, to suggest she could fill the tub for her and even heat it with her fire magic, but she knew that was a bad idea.
     She didn’t want to reveal all her powers just yet. Doubts lingered in her mind as she questioned whether she could put her trust in them. Her gut told her they were good people, but she was still hesitant, as Anwel taught her to be. She did not make her wind magic apparent to them as she used it on their trek here to conceal their trail, so as far as they knew, she only had illusion magic.
     And for now, that’s all she wanted them to know.
     “'Rosia to Elys. Are you listening?” Tsarra waved her hand toward Lyrael, who jumped slightly and looked around.
     “Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about something.”
     “As I was saying, we should get some rest so we can head out before dawn.” Tsarra murmured and Wynn and Soni nodded in agreement. Wynn unfolded the blanket at the end of his cot and slowly, with a grimace on his face, laid down.
     “Goodnight,” Lyrael murmured, sliding onto her own cot, pulling the thin blanket over herself. Her mind spun with questions, questions she wished she could have answers to. She wrapped herself in a bubble of silence, tears pouring down her face as she forced her shoulders to stay still as she sobbed.
     Her heart was broken. The man who was supposed to be her father kept so much hidden from her. He knew what she was and knew she was glamoured. But he said nothing to her, never told her the truth. She tried not to let her anger consume her, but once she fell asleep, she dreamt of their humble cottage going up in flames, her own screams of anger echoing in her ears.

⋆˙⟡ ☾ 𖤓 ☽ ⟡˙⋆

     Early morning sunlight poured from the lone window in their dingy room and as she woke; she glamoured her face into not looking so puffy and red. She didn’t want comments from her new peers or pity-filled looks like the ones she’d gotten when people from her village were reminded of her mother—the mother she thought had died when she gave birth to her.
     Something in her mind voiced a singular question, and her chest ached as it consumed all her thoughts in one fell swoop.
     Does it hurt more or less now that you know she was never your actual mother?
     Lyrael couldn’t decide as she stepped inside the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She stared at herself in the murky mirror, unable to recognize the face that stared back at her.
     As she searched her unfamiliar face, brushing her fingers over her new cheekbones and a sharper jawline, a sudden, startling realization hit her. The feeling she felt accustomed to for her entire life leading up to this moment was gone.
     The face before her no longer felt wrong.
     Lyrael jumped when someone knocked and, for a moment, she thought one of her new companions was knocking on the bathroom door. But a beat later, a lock clicked, and she heard the door to their room swing open.
     “Would you guys be interested in some room service breakfast? Six copper a piece.” The old woman crooned, and Lyrael heard the three of them discuss.
     “No, it’s okay. We’ll come up and eat in the tavern. Thank you, miss.”
     “Suit yourself.” The innkeeper snipped and shut the door with a heavy thud. Lyrael pulled open the bathroom door and stepped out, a small smirk on her face.
     “Did anyone else find it strange that she locked our door last night?”
     Wynn just laughed, “Nope, not just you. We all found it odd.”
     “Have you guys ever stayed here before?”
     “Once, but in a room above the tavern... and she didn’t lock us in then.” Soni responded as she collected her things from beside her cot.
     Ten minutes later, the four of them sat at one of the tables near the fire in the tavern, each of them stuffing their faces with delicious food. “For the cheap price of five copper a plate, this food is so worth it.” Wynn moaned, taking a large bite of a biscuit covered in sausage gravy. “I love breakfast, you guys.”
     “So, here’s the plan.” Tsarra took a gulp from her mug of ale. “Once we’re done eating, we leave the inn and head to the market. There’s usually someone from Pinewell selling horses. I’m sure we’ll find one for Elys.”
     “Look, I really don’t need a horse.” Lyrael murmured, “I can keep up on foot.”
     “No, you need a horse. You’re going to get tired and will need to rest sooner than us. Then we just stop at the market for whatever we need and then leave. I’m not sure where your father’s trail is leading from here, but I suspect that whoever took him is heading for the capital.” Tsarra explained, biting a sizable chunk from her muffin. “I need a few things anyway, so we can spend a little time looking around.”
     A few minutes later, her plate cleared, Lyrael stood and picked up her empty plate. “I’m going to drop my plate off and go look around the market. See you guys in a bit?”
     “Sure, we’ll be out soon!” Soni nodded, waving as Lyrael aimed for the bar. She set her empty plate on the counter and left an extra copper as a tip to the chef. Straightening the bow on her shoulder, she walked out of the inn and took a right toward the market.
     She paused near the corner of the inn, fighting the soft voice that told her she shouldn’t eavesdrop on them. But a louder, stronger voice told her she needed to know if she could trust her new friends.
     A small part of her felt like they were hiding something. Something told her they were, but the cautiousness Anwel drilled into her was stronger.
     Lyrael wrapped herself in her magic, silencing her breathing. She focused her hearing toward the window they were sitting a few feet from.
     “What is up with you?” Tsarra hissed at them. Lyrael heard Soni’s cloak ruffle, as if she shrugged. “Is there a reason you didn’t want to tell Elys about those soldiers? About why they wanted you?”
     Lyrael had wondered the same. When she asked Soni why they were being chased by soldiers, she was quick to change the subject, not giving Lyrael the chance to prod any further.
     “Look...” Soni sighed softly, her tone flat. “I trust you and Wynn. But when I first met her, I didn’t trust her, and we still don’t know if we can. All we know is that she didn’t kill us in our sleep. You don’t trust her enough to tell her our plans, right? We don’t even know who this girl is and, to be honest, her existence makes no sense.”
     “What do you mean?” Tsarra’s voice dropped to a soft whisper.
     “Who would go through the effort of glamouring some random High Elf baby and hide her in Mahlon, hmm?” Soni retorted quietly. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
     “Yeah, you have a point, I guess...” Wynn’s voice trailed off and when he spoke again, his voice wavered. “You... you don’t think she’s her, do you?”
     Her? Who is this ‘her’ he is speaking of? Lyrael wondered, frowning as she stood at the corner of the inn, waiting.
     Soni shrugged again. “I don’t know, maybe. It’s plausible. But she could be lying about where she’s from or she just doesn’t know that she’s her.”
     “I don’t think she’s lying. If she is her, then she definitely is not aware. I mean, you saw the look on her face when she found out her father has been lying to her for her entire life. She truly did not know she was a High Elf.” Tsarra shook her head, her braid brushing over her shoulder. “I think she’s telling the truth; I don’t really see what she’d have to gain by lying. Plus, she only has one ability, like any other High Elf.”
     “She could be hiding other abilities.” Wynn suggested and Lyrael pressed her lips together, guilt filling her stomach.
     Tsarra’s hair swished over her shoulders. “No. If she doesn’t know who she is, then she would have no reason to hide multiple abilities.”
     “Oh, and another thing.” Soni’s chair scraped against the floor and Lyrael assumed she was standing now, her voice raising slightly. “Glamour magic is one magic that only lasts for a few days without being charged by the person who glamoured them. So, unless Elys was doing it subconsciously somehow, then someone else with very strong, probably dark, magic glamoured her true features. That’s the only way. It must’ve broken when she crossed the Border.”
     Wynn hummed, “Can’t you just use pyromancy to find out, Tsarra?”
     “When we stop later, sure.” Tsarra sighed, seemingly frustrated with the conversation.
     “What about the fire over there?” Soni offered, and Lyrael assumed she’d pointed to the fireplace that was lit, crackling softly from across the room.
     “Okay, fine.” Tsarra murmured. For some reason, based on Tsarra’s responses and her tone, Lyrael felt like Tsarra didn’t want to use her pyromancy on Lyrael and she didn’t understand why. Honestly, it's a smart idea. I want to know who I truly am and why Anwel raised me.
     “We’ll go looking for Elys, you do your thing.” Wynn called and stood from the table. Lyrael heard them set their plates on the bar and head for the exit.
     Footsteps neared the door, and Lyrael blinked from sight, wrapping herself in her magic. Her illusions were like a second skin for her. She had spent a lot of time honing her abilities in the forests with animals sensitive to the smallest of noises. She practiced and practiced until it was second nature, until she could keep doing it in her sleep.