The air itself seems to hold its breath as Moira's figure begins to shimmer, her dress rippling with an otherworldly glow.

  Aurora materializes beside me, her massive form radiating protective energy as she positions herself between us and the magical disturbance. Her tail lashes back and forth, muscles coiled and ready beneath her ethereal fur.

  "Ah," Moira says, her voice carrying notes of both anticipation and resignation, "it begins."

  The air crackles with raw, untamed energy, charged with ozone. Reality itself seems to distort around Moira, each breath thick with the immanence of something profound. Invisible forces ripple outwards from her, the air shimmering with an ethereal luminescence.

  The change begins subtly at first. Moira's silver hair starts to flow like liquid moonlight. Her skin transforms next - the signs of age melting away, replaced by flesh that seems to glow from within. Her eyes, once a warm brown, now swirl with purple and gold - when they catch the light, they resemble twin nebulae. She grows taller, her entire form stretching and reshaping itself with an otherworldly elegance.

  Gone is the kindly mentor figure. In her place stands something ancient and powerful. Her face becomes sharper, more defined - with striking features that command attention, eyes deep as space itself. When she smiles, it's with the knowing look of someone who has witnessed the birth and death of stars.

  "Moira?" I whisper. "You're..."

  "Young? Still exactly as ancient as before," she says, her voice now carrying harmonics that make the air itself vibrate. "I simply... manifest differently beyond the Wyldwood's influence."

  Her dress now seems woven from the very fabric of space itself, shifting and flowing with each movement as if crafted from living shadows and light.

  Vesper wobbles forward, her small form drawn to Moira's transformed state. "Pretty!" she exclaims, her voice filled with childlike wonder. "Moira... pretty like big lights! Me... me want touch!"

  Aurora lets out a low warning growl, moving closer to Vesper with protective intent. "Careful, little one," she purrs, her voice deep and rich. "Some lights are meant to be admired from afar."

  That's rich coming from you, considering how many magical artifacts you've tried to headbutt.

  Honestly, I'm still finding scorch marks from last week's "investigation."

  "I, uh..." I clear my throat, trying not to stare too obviously at her cosmic form. "Honestly, I always pictured your true form would be like... I don't know, a dragon or something? But this is..." I gesture vaguely at her appearance, heat rising to my cheeks, "...this is good too. Really good. Not that dragons aren't cool, but... yeah." I trail off awkwardly.

  Aurora snorts in amusement, her tail curling around my legs. "Dragons are overrated," she says with a hint of sass. "Though I wouldn't mind having wings."

  As if reading the unspoken question in Aurora's watchful gaze, Moira addresses the silent inquiry about her transformation.

  Moira's smile turns wistful. "I made an arrangement with the Matriarch. Protection, in exchange for limiting my abilities within her realm. The accord proved mutually beneficial - my presence strengthens the Wyldwood itself. My powers feed into its chaotic nature, though the process gradually weakened me, forcing an older, more... mundane form within its borders."

  "Protection from what?"

  Pain flickers across her ageless features. "From those who would misuse my knowledge. The Wyldwood's chaos masks me from eyes that must not find me." She pauses. "Your mother's eyes, specifically."

  "Some powers require careful containment," she continues, gently touching Vesper's inquisitive tendril. "The Matriarch understood this. Our accord wasn't merely about hiding - it was about equilibrium."

  "Why hide?" Vesper's voice carries the innocent curiosity of a child, her light pulsing softly. Through our connection, I sense her processing this lesson about power's responsibilities.

  "The Wyldwood's chaos dampens my abilities," Moira explains. "Outside..." Reality ripples at her gesture. "Let's say your mother prefers me restrained."

  Her cosmic eyes study the three of us thoughtfully, lingering on the way our different energies intermingle - Vesper's light, Aurora's shadowy form, and my own chaos-tinged magic.

  "Although..." A note of speculation enters her harmonic voice. "Your combined presence might prove... interesting. The chaotic resonance between you three could potentially mask my true nature even beyond the Wyldwood's borders. Probably." Her lips curve in a slight smile. "Maybe."

  "And what if we aren't able to mask your presence?" My gaze traces the celestial light playing across her newly formed features. "I mean, no offense, but you're kind of hard to miss right now. You're literally bending reality with every step, and I'm pretty sure those are actual galaxies in your dress."

  "Some risks are worth taking," she laughs and says simply, ancient affection in her gaze. "Family, for instance."

  Aurora's muscles tense beneath her dark fur, her tail swishing with protective intent as she positions herself between us and potential threats. Vesper's light glows warmly while Aurora's watchful gaze scans our surroundings. Together we stand - an unlikely but unshakeable unit, bound by something stronger than blood or magic.

  The path ahead unwinds like a ribbon of infinite potential, each step carrying us further from the Wyldwood's familiar embrace and deeper into the unknown. The air feels different here, more responsive to will and intent. The feeling is a heady mix of exhilaration and trepidation, like standing on the precipice of a cliff.

  "Speaking of maintaining a lower profile..." Moira gestures at herself, light rippling with her movement, and her voice carries hints of amusement. "I should probably tone down the whole 'beacon of cosmic radiance' effect before we reach civilization. Though perhaps we should review those market protocols while I practice appearing less..." She waves a hand through the wake of her motion, "...conspicuous?"

  I find myself staring, caught off guard by Moira's true form. She's stunning - her transformed features sharp yet somehow still soft with ancient wisdom. The light flowing through her hair creates patterns that make my heart skip beats it probably needs.

  The worst part is how natural it feels - this pull toward her cosmic presence. It's like my chaos-touched magic recognizes something kindred in her otherworldly radiance, even while my rational mind screams about appropriate mentor-student boundaries. I try to focus on the maternal warmth in her eyes, but that just makes everything more complicated, a tangle of familial love and forbidden attraction that ties my stomach in knots.

  "Oh no," I think, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "She's gorgeous. Like, illegally gorgeous. Am I checking out my mentor? The woman who's basically been a mother figure? This is... this is not okay."

  Analyzing subject's physiological response...

  Heart rate: Elevated

  Facial temperature: Increasing

  Warning: Developing attraction to cosmic entity detected

  Note: Perhaps reconsider romantic interest in reality-bending mentor

  Additional note: Your thoughts are extremely loud

  "Shut up," I mutter, trying to force down my blush as Moira turns those galaxy-filled eyes toward me. "Just... run a diagnostic or something."

  Running diagnostic...

  Current situation: Complicated

  Recommendation: Focus on mission

  Note: She does look better than a dragon

  Additional note: Not helping, am I?

  "Not even a little," I whisper, watching as Moira gracefully navigates the path ahead, each step leaving tiny ripples in reality itself. "And stop analyzing my internal monologue."

  Request noted

  Processing...

  Response: No

  "Want play!" Vesper chirps, her light bobbing playfully around Aurora, who responds with an indulgent purr despite her vigilant stance.

  I try to focus on anything else – the way leaves crunch under my feet, the steady rhythm of Aurora's padding footsteps, even Vesper's childlike babbling. But my gaze keeps drifting back to Moira, drawn like a moth to the most dangerous and beautiful flame in existence.

  Analyzing current situation...

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Distance to market: Approximately 100 miles

  Group composition: One cosmic entity, one chaos-touched human, one guardian beast, one void-touched child

  Notable observations:

  Subject Kali remains barefoot. Walking distance significant

  Recommendation: Perhaps acquire footwear

  Additional note: Quality time together is inevitable given distance

  "Right. Market protocols." I force myself to focus on Moira's words rather than the way light dances across her features. "Though maybe we should discuss the whole walking situation first? Because FRIDAY's not wrong about the barefoot thing."

  Analyzing footwear situation...

  Status: Still absent

  Recommendation: Unchanged

  Additional note: Oh good, someone is finally listening to me

  Moira's cosmic gaze drops to my feet, and for a moment, the space around them ripples like heat waves off hot pavement. "Ah. An oversight." She waves her hand, and shadows coalesce around my feet, weaving themselves into something that looks like simple black flats but feels like walking on clouds. "These should suffice until we can acquire more... conventional footwear."

  "They look normal enough," I say, turning my foot to examine the shadow-woven shoes. "Perfect for keeping a low profile."

  Aurora lets out an amused snort. "Says the one traveling with a void-touched guardian and two of the most powerful beings in existence."

  "Pretty shoes!" Vesper chirps in agreement, her light pulsing with joy. Through our connection, I catch impressions of sparkles and warmth, her way of expressing approval for anything that glitters.

  "Fair point," I concede. "So, about those market protocols..."

  "Yes," Moira says, her voice carrying harmonics that make nearby leaves tremble. She pauses, concentrating, and the cosmic display around her dims slightly. The galaxies in her dress fade to subtle shimmer, though her eyes retain their nebulous depth. "First rule: stay together. The market exists in a space between spaces, and it's easy to get... misplaced."

  "Misplaced sounds ominous," I mutter.

  Analyzing term 'misplaced'...

  Possible interpretations:

  1. Lost in conventional sense

  2. Scattered across multiple dimensions

  3. Temporarily ceased to exist

  Recommendation: Avoid all above scenarios

  "Second rule," Moira continues, ignoring my commentary and FRIDAY's analysis, "no deals without consultation. Market vendors can be... persuasive. Some literally so." Her expression grows serious. "They'll sense what you desire most and offer it freely. Remember: nothing there is truly free."

  Vesper presses closer through our bond, her light flickering. "No like scary people," she whispers. Aurora's muscles tense as she positions herself between us and the path ahead, her tail lashing with protective instinct.

  "And third," Moira's voice drops to a whisper that somehow carries more weight than a shout, "no matter what you see or hear, do not give them your name. Names have power in the market, and some collectors prize them above all else."

  "Right," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "Stay together, no impulse shopping, no introductions. Simple enough." I glance down at my shadow shoes, then at Vesper's glowing form and Aurora's sleek, dark figure. "Though I have to ask - how exactly are we planning to blend in? We're not exactly an inconspicuous group."

  Moira's lips curve in a knowing smile. "Where we're going, we'll be among the more... conventional customers."

  An hour into our journey, I've learned several important things: First, shadow-woven shoes might feel like clouds, but they do nothing to prevent blisters. Second, highway robbers apparently still exist, even on mystical paths. And third, Vesper's idea of "helping" involves turning said robbers into an impromptu dance troupe.

  It started with the classic "stand and deliver" routine - three men in mismatched leather armor jumping out from behind a rather unimpressive bush. The leader, sporting what had to be a fake beard, brandished his sword with theatrical flair.

  "Your valuables or your lives!" he announced, clearly proud of the line.

  Analyzing threat level...

  Weapon maintenance: Poor

  Dramatic delivery: Excessive

  Beard authenticity: Questionable

  Recommendation: Perhaps suggest acting classes?

  "Really?" I couldn't help asking. "Highway robbery? That's still a thing?"

  The leader looked offended. "It's a perfectly respectable profession! Traditional, even!"

  "Bad mens!" Vesper declares from my shoulder. "No hurt my friends!"

  "Did that short tree thing just... talk?" The shortest robber lowered his dagger, squinting at Vesper.

  Aurora's tail swishes dangerously as she fixes them with golden eyes. "More coherently than you lot, and with better grammar too."

  "Look," I tried reasoning, "you really don't want to do this. We've got a lot of power here and a cosmic void-touched toddler tree who's still learning impulse control. Maybe we could just—"

  "Make dance!" Vesper suddenly announces. "Make happy! No more mean!"

  Before anyone could react, light pulses from her form, wrapping around the robbers like ribbon. Their weapons clatter to the ground as their bodies begin to move involuntarily.

  "What's happening?" the leader yelps, his fake beard wobbling as he pirouettes.

  "I can't stop!" the short one wails, performing a perfect grand jeté.

  The third robber, who had been silent until now, executes a flawless spin. "Actually... this isn't so bad? I always wanted to try ballet!"

  "Shut up, Kevin!" the other two robbers shout mid-pirouette, their synchronized eye-rolls nearly as impressive as their forced dance moves.

  "What?" Kevin protests, attempting a rather ambitious arabesque. "I'm just saying, maybe this is like... sign? You know I want dance classes—"

  "We are HIGHWAY ROBBERS!" the leader bellows, his fake beard now hanging completely sideways. "We don’t do BALLET!"

  "Well, we doing it now," Kevin mutters, executing a perfect pas de bourrée. "This is good feeling," Kevin muses mid-spin, his leather armor creaking in protest. "My therapist says I need to do things that make me happy—"

  "Your THERAPIST?" the leader shrieks, executing a perfect grand jeté despite his obvious fury. "We are scary robbers! We don’t talk to therapists!"

  Aurora lounges nearby, watching the display with evident amusement. "I haven't been this entertained since that time with the pixie circus," she purrs, her tail curled contentedly.

  Analyzing current tactical situation...

  Threat classification: Interpretive Dance-Based Neutralization

  Perpetrator: Void-touched botanical entity (juvenile)

  Effectiveness rating: 97.3%

  Notable observation: Subject "Kevin" displays 42% higher aptitude for classical dance forms compared to cohort

  Recommendation: Consider submitting footage to "Universe's Funniest Combat Resolutions"

  "I don't think that's what they meant by 'stand and deliver,'" I say, watching as our would-be attackers twirl and leap in perfect synchronization to music only they can hear.

  Analyzing group dynamics...

  Note: Kevin shows promising self-awareness

  Recommendation: Perhaps leave their contact information for local dance studios?

  "Make pretty dance!" Vesper claps. "Me do good! No more bad men!"

  Aurora lets out a low, amused rumble. "Effective strategy, little one, though we should probably discuss what counts as defense."

  The lead robber spins past us, his fake beard now completely askew. "If anyone asks," he pants between pirouettes, "we were defeated in glorious combat!"

  "By interpretive dance?" his shorter companion asks, mid-leap.

  "Shut up and arabesque!"

  Analyzing recent events...

  Threat assessment: Minimal

  Entertainment value: Unexpectedly high

  Current status: Three grown men in leather armor performing synchronized choreography

  Note: Void-touched child's powers require further study

  Additional note: Their rhythm is... surprisingly good

  Vesper bounces excitedly from her perch on my shoulder, her joy radiating through our bond as she watches her handiwork unfold. The weapons lay forgotten in the grass, glinting in the afternoon sun.

  Moira observes the performance with raised eyebrows, her cosmic form slightly dimmed as she moves. "Creative problem solving," she concedes, watching as the lead robber attempts a particularly ambitious pirouette. "Though perhaps we should continue before the effect wears off."

  We leave the dancing bandits behind, their enthusiastic performance fading into the distance. The path ahead winds through increasingly strange territory - trees that grow sideways, flowers that hum old jazz standards, and what I swear is a mailbox having an existential crisis.

  "Are we sure this is the right way?" I ask, wincing as another blister makes itself known. "It's getting a bit..."

  "We'll need to stop soon," Moira says, her luminous figure dimming slightly as she notices my discomfort. "There's a waypoint town about an hour ahead - Mill Haven. We can find proper shoes there, and perhaps actual beds for the night."

  "A real bed?" My feet practically sing at the prospect. "That sounds amazing."

  "Want sleepy now!" Vesper tugs at my hair. "Need soft pillows! Make big blanket house!"

  Aurora stretches, her movements fluid and predatory. "A rest would be wise. The market's still five days out, assuming the paths behave themselves."

  Analyzing current status...

  Group fatigue: Increasing

  Shadow shoes effectiveness: Declining

  Recommendation: Accept offer of real beds

  Additional note: Blanket forts are indeed superior fortifications

  "The path to the market will grow more... unpredictable the closer we get," Moira explains. "Better to face it well-rested, and properly equipped."

  I glance down at my shadow-woven shoes, now starting to fray at the edges. "Yeah, okay. Mill Haven it is. Though I have to ask - is it going to be, you know, normal? Or should I expect the buildings to be doing cartwheels?"

  Moira's lips twitch. "The town caters to travelers like us. It's... relatively conventional. Though perhaps keep Vesper away from the local theater troupe. One dancing performance today was quite enough."

  "That's one word for it," I mutter, as a flock of what might be birds - if birds were made of paper and sang show tunes - wheels overhead.

  Vesper, naturally, starts humming along.

  Analyzing current situation...

  Path status: Increasingly non-Euclidean

  Group morale: Surprisingly stable

  Musical number: In progress

  Recommendation: Just go with it

  Sometimes I wonder if this is what Alice felt like, tumbling down that rabbit hole. Though I doubt she had to deal with FRIDAY's running commentary or a void-touched child's impromptu musical numbers.