001: Down the Rabbit Hole [Holo]
The woman was standing in front of DG, her face both familiar and unfamiliar. She had warned her daughter about the storm, and now the storm was here.
“Make haste now. South, to the Realm of the Unwanted. There you must find a man named Ahamo.”
DG raised a hand, reaching out to brush the ermine trim of the queen’s cloak. Her fingers slipped through the fabric, the image fracturing for a moment. Unless she defeated Azkadellia, she would never see her mother in the flesh again. She would never recover the rest of her memories and her dreams would stay just that. Just dreams.
She opened her eyes, brushing off the memory and glancing sideways at her three companions, who were still hovering on the edge of the trapdoor. She trusted them more than anyone in any world, and certainly more than she’d trusted anyone during her half life back in Kansas. She’d be safe with them. They could do this.
South it was. South, and down into another strange part of a very strange world.
Stumbling off the platform, DG reached out to steady herself on an arm that wasn’t there. Her friends weren’t there, and this room didn’t look anything like the Realm of the Unwanted she’d been expecting. What had happened to the noise and the laughter? She’d heard it through the trapdoor. The people couldn’t have just disappeared!
In fact, as she made her way down the rest of the steps, DG couldn’t help but note that the room didn’t look like something she’d expect to see anywhere in the O.Z. Sure, the world had advanced technology, but it also had magic, and that combination didn’t lend itself to teleportation devices like the one above her head.
“Oh no, I didn’t get thrown through a storm and trek across half of the O.Z to end up starring as an extra in some ... some bad science fiction movie! Where am I? Where are my friends?”
Helplessly, DG plucked at the bracelet on her wrist. She winced slightly when it didn’t budge. The metal was actually fused to her skin. Definitely not the Realm of the Unwanted, then. Thieves and vagabonds the residents might be, but they weren’t twisted. That sort of thing was Azkadellia’s domain ...
Azkadellia. Her sister, or what remained of her. But how could she have intercepted them? Unless Tutor had been lying. Maybe he’d been sending messages to the witch all along, even after his ‘confession’. The idea made her stomach turn. She couldn’t forgive him for a second time, especially not if it had placed her friends in even more danger and put her quest at risk.
If this was Azkadellia’s doing, then it was no wonder she didn’t receive an answer. The witch wouldn’t speak until she’d got what she’d wanted, or until she’d realised that DG had no answers - and no emerald - to give up.
Crossing the room - and paying no attention to the nearby tablet, which she hadn't noticed - DG ran a hand over the door. When she tried the handle, it remained stuck fast.
“Hello?” She banged on the metal with the flat of her hand, but she wasn’t surprised when it didn’t yield. “Hello? Glitch? Cain? Raw?” A pause. “Anyone?”
She paused, keeping her hand on the door. With her other hand, she traced the unyielding metal on her wrist. What was it supposed to do? There wouldn’t be much point in hampering her powers. She had no real control over them at the moment. Sometimes magic just ... happened. DG had no idea what she was actually capable of.
”This is warped even for you, Azkadellia. Where are my friends?”
“Make haste now. South, to the Realm of the Unwanted. There you must find a man named Ahamo.”
DG raised a hand, reaching out to brush the ermine trim of the queen’s cloak. Her fingers slipped through the fabric, the image fracturing for a moment. Unless she defeated Azkadellia, she would never see her mother in the flesh again. She would never recover the rest of her memories and her dreams would stay just that. Just dreams.
She opened her eyes, brushing off the memory and glancing sideways at her three companions, who were still hovering on the edge of the trapdoor. She trusted them more than anyone in any world, and certainly more than she’d trusted anyone during her half life back in Kansas. She’d be safe with them. They could do this.
South it was. South, and down into another strange part of a very strange world.
Stumbling off the platform, DG reached out to steady herself on an arm that wasn’t there. Her friends weren’t there, and this room didn’t look anything like the Realm of the Unwanted she’d been expecting. What had happened to the noise and the laughter? She’d heard it through the trapdoor. The people couldn’t have just disappeared!
In fact, as she made her way down the rest of the steps, DG couldn’t help but note that the room didn’t look like something she’d expect to see anywhere in the O.Z. Sure, the world had advanced technology, but it also had magic, and that combination didn’t lend itself to teleportation devices like the one above her head.
“Oh no, I didn’t get thrown through a storm and trek across half of the O.Z to end up starring as an extra in some ... some bad science fiction movie! Where am I? Where are my friends?”
Helplessly, DG plucked at the bracelet on her wrist. She winced slightly when it didn’t budge. The metal was actually fused to her skin. Definitely not the Realm of the Unwanted, then. Thieves and vagabonds the residents might be, but they weren’t twisted. That sort of thing was Azkadellia’s domain ...
Azkadellia. Her sister, or what remained of her. But how could she have intercepted them? Unless Tutor had been lying. Maybe he’d been sending messages to the witch all along, even after his ‘confession’. The idea made her stomach turn. She couldn’t forgive him for a second time, especially not if it had placed her friends in even more danger and put her quest at risk.
If this was Azkadellia’s doing, then it was no wonder she didn’t receive an answer. The witch wouldn’t speak until she’d got what she’d wanted, or until she’d realised that DG had no answers - and no emerald - to give up.
Crossing the room - and paying no attention to the nearby tablet, which she hadn't noticed - DG ran a hand over the door. When she tried the handle, it remained stuck fast.
“Hello?” She banged on the metal with the flat of her hand, but she wasn’t surprised when it didn’t yield. “Hello? Glitch? Cain? Raw?” A pause. “Anyone?”
She paused, keeping her hand on the door. With her other hand, she traced the unyielding metal on her wrist. What was it supposed to do? There wouldn’t be much point in hampering her powers. She had no real control over them at the moment. Sometimes magic just ... happened. DG had no idea what she was actually capable of.
”This is warped even for you, Azkadellia. Where are my friends?”