—D—

  Hiking a vaguely yellow-ish, sunbaked dirt track under a sky that felt determined to personally cook us wasn't the only thing screaming "Wizard of Oz" vibes at me right now.

  Oh no.

  The dress Lyra had grudgingly "loaned" me (after Jay pointed out it was either that or march into potential oblivion wearing easily identifiable rags) wasn't just surprisingly comfortable, it definitely nudged my whole aesthetic closer to Dorothy Gale. Minus the gingham, plus a lot more road dust and existential dread.

  Naturally, this glorious plan had been Jay’s doing.

  Operation: Blend In.

  Objective: Make it to Veridia—a big, bustling city right in the heart of Solmara—vanish into the crowds, and maybe, just maybe, figure out where the hell we’d landed.

  Simple. Elegant. Foolproof.

  Well. As foolproof as any plan involving us could be.

  And, of course, Stage one involved disguises.

  Hence, the dress. And the twin tails I’d painstakingly fashioned from my own shaggy blond hair.

  Unfortunately, Lyra had drawn the line hard at lending me any undergarments, vehemently refusing my perfectly reasonable request. This left me feeling slightly incomplete in my role as Jay's devoted spouse, a crucial part of our hastily constructed backstory.

  Idiots.

  How could I fully commit to the character without the proper foundational garments? It ruined the immersion!

  Jay, my darling "husband," was playing the part of a simple farmer.

  He wore sturdy, borrowed trousers, a plain tunic, and a ridiculously oversized straw hat that shadowed his face, hiding his usual arrogant scowl beneath a facade of rustic neutrality. It almost worked. If you ignored the simmering irritation radiating off him every time I called him "hubby."

  And Zeta? Oh, Zeta was a masterpiece.

  Our backstory designated him as my poor, unfortunate brother, tragically burned in a childhood accident. This narrative conveniently explained why his face needed to be almost entirely obscured. Jay’s initial idea was just a hooded cloak, but Zeta’s profound lack of facial animation beyond ‘tired’ or ‘more tired’ made it unconvincing.

  So, it evolved.

  Now, yards of scavenged bandages swaddled his head and neck, leaving only his eyes visible – dark, weary pits in a sea of white cloth. He looked less like a burn victim and more like a bizarre fusion of a low-budget mummy and Shishio Makoto after a bad day. It was oddly effective.

  So, if I was Dorothy, was Jay the Tin Man (all logic, no heart – debatable, but mostly true)? And Z the Cowardly Lion (brave when he absolutely had to be, preferred napping)? It… sort of tracked? My brain desperately tried to make the analogy fit.

  Lorens and Lyra, our Scarecrow and… Fierce Lioness? Had decided to travel separately.

  They had "loose ends" from their mercenary days to tie up, promising to meet us in Veridia. Probably involved digging up buried loot or settling old scores. Standard RPG side-quest stuff.

  Honestly, maybe them leaving separately was for the best.

  My poor, fragile heart needed a serious cooldown after witnessing that reunion back in the cave. Talk about intense! Right out of some epic fantasy romance movie, except I wasn't the hero getting the girl, I was the slightly-wounded comic relief watching the passionate tonsil-hockey from five feet away while still technically being held hostage by circumstance.

  And don't even get me started on the first night back at the cabin... let's just say the thin blanket separating their alcove wasn't exactly soundproof. Trying to sleep through that while listening to Jay radiate silent disapproval and Zeta deliver a muffled, but highly detailed, monologue on the specific torments awaiting overly amorous couples in various afterlives?

  Yeah. Brutal. A guy tries nursing a tiny, maybe-possibly-infatuation, and the universe decides to rub his nose in it with front-row seats to the Passion Play. Not cool, universe. Not cool.

  Just as I was pondering whether Jay's new pet counted as Toto, Jay's voice broke the silence. It was midday, the sun a merciless ball of fire overhead, the road stretching endlessly before us.

  "How's the foot holding up?" he asked, his voice flat, directed at me.

  "Mrow?" A small, inquisitive sound came from Jay’s shoulder.

  Ah, yes. Toto. Or rather, the Minfu.

  Jay had returned from his solitary nighttime brooding session three days ago carrying the creature – small, black as void, with those two whip-like tails and the creepy third eye on its forehead (usually closed, thankfully). Its leg had been crudely but effectively splinted with twigs and strips of cloth.

  My reaction? Immediate, unfiltered adoration. "Ohmygoshit'ssocuteJaycanIholditwhatisitcalledlookatitstinylittlenoseandtheextraeye!!!" followed swiftly by a wave of burning, soul-crushing envy.

  Of course Jay gets the cool, mysterious, potentially magical animal companion and the Jedi mind trick! What did I get? A dress and sore feet. The System clearly played favorites.

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  Zeta’s reaction had been, predictably, Zeta-like. He’d blinked slowly at the creature, then at Jay, grunted something that sounded suspiciously like "Another mouth to feed," and promptly appeared to fall asleep standing up.

  Now, the Minfu, perched regally on Jay’s shoulder, blinked its two normal golden eyes at me, then licked Jay's ear with surprising affection. Lucky bastard.

  "My foot is simply divine, dearest husband!" I chirped, putting on my best damsel-in-mild-distress voice and leaning dramatically towards him. "But perhaps a short rest? Your poor, delicate wife is feeling rather faint from this dreadful heat." I fanned myself with my hand, fluttering my eyelashes for maximum effect.

  Jay stopped walking.

  He didn't turn, but I could feel the temperature drop several degrees around him. "D," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "Knock it off."

  "But sweetums, a wife must attend to her husband's needs! Are you thirsty? Let me fetch you some water!" I skipped ahead, grabbing the waterskin from his belt.

  The Minfu hissed softly, its fur bristling slightly. Even the cat didn't like me trying too hard.

  "Zeta," Jay said, completely ignoring my performance, "How are you holding up back there?"

  A muffled groan was the only reply from our bandaged companion shuffling along behind us.

  The next few days blurred into a monotonous cycle.

  Walk. Sweat. Endure Jay’s simmering resentment and Zeta’s silent suffering.

  We followed dusty, infrequently travelled roads, avoiding larger paths on Jay’s insistence.

  Our provisions, meager gifts from Lorens and Lyra, dwindled rapidly. Nights were spent huddled under rocky overhangs or in dense thickets, chewing on dried meat that tasted like shoe leather and whatever edible roots Z managed to stumble over (his only consistent contribution).

  Jay used these brief respites to drill us on our backstory and outline the plan. Veridia was massive, he explained. A place to gather information, maybe find others like us – or at least understand the 'System' better.

  Anonymity was key.

  No drawing attention. Which meant I had to stop calling him 'pumpkin' and Zeta had to try and look slightly less like an ambulatory corpse asking for directions to the nearest graveyard.

  It was late afternoon on the fourth day when we saw them.

  A knot of figures cresting a small hill ahead. Soldiers. Four of them, clad in boiled leather cuirasses and steel helmets, carrying sturdy spears and short swords. Their tunics bore the emblem of Solmara – a stylized sunburst. They looked disciplined, wary, their eyes scanning the road. Exactly the kind of attention we didn't need.

  "Alright," Jay murmured, adjusting his ridiculously large hat. "Stick to the story. Let me do the talking. D, try not to volunteer any information about starship engine designs. Z… just try to look human."

  We approached, attempting to look like weary, unremarkable travelers. My heart hammered against my ribs. Role-playing under pressure! This was like a high-stakes improv session!

  The lead soldier, a corporal with a square jaw and suspicious eyes, held up a hand. "Halt! State your business!"

  "Just simple farmers, Sir," Jay said, his voice adopting a slightly rougher, rural edge. Perfect! He was leaning into the role! "Taking my wife and her poor brother to Veridia. Hoping to find work, maybe see a physician for the boy." He gestured towards Zeta, who obligingly slumped a little more, looking convincingly pathetic.

  "Where you coming from?" the corporal asked, his gaze sharp, sweeping over us. His eyes lingered on my dress, then Zeta's bandages.

  "Small village near the Grey Hills, sir," Jay replied smoothly. "Barely a name you'd know. Times are hard."

  "Aye, times are hard everywhere with the Elbarian dogs rattling their sabers," another soldier muttered.

  The corporal frowned, circling Zeta slowly. "What happened to him?"

  "Terrible accident, sir," I piped up, clasping my hands worriedly. "A fire, when he was just a boy. Took his voice, too, poor thing. Hasn't spoken a word in years." Okay, maybe I improvised a little on the voice part. Zeta shot me a look that could melt steel, even through the bandages.

  At least he ignored Toto—no small feat, considering the creature’s third eye was wide open and staring directly at him.

  Holy moly.

  Was Toto making himself invisible?

  The corporal grunted, unconvinced. He looked back at Jay. "Farmers, you say? You don't look much like a farmer." His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. The other soldiers tensed, their spear points lowering slightly.

  This was it. The moment of truth. I could feel the tension coiling. My palms were sweating.

  Jay didn't flinch. His eyes, hidden beneath the brim of his hat, seemed to lock onto the corporal's. I saw his jaw tighten almost imperceptibly. He took a slow breath.

  "We're just honest folk looking for a better life, Sir," Jay said, his voice steady, almost hypnotic. Deep. Resonant. "Trying to get my family somewhere safe. You see that, don't you? Just weary travelers posing no threat. Nothing worth delaying your patrol over. You should let us pass."

  The air crackled. The corporal blinked. His frown lessened, confusion warring with… something else. Acceptance? His hand eased off his sword hilt. He glanced at his men, then back at us, his gaze slightly unfocused.

  "Aye," he said slowly, his voice losing some of its edge. "Weary travelers. Right." He waved a dismissive hand. "On your way, then. But stay sharp. These roads aren't safe."

  We didn't need telling twice. We walked past them, my legs feeling like jelly, my breath caught in my throat. Jay’s Jedi mind trick! It worked again! So cool! And so terrifying!

  We kept walking, not daring to look back until the patrol was a distant smudge on the road behind us.

  "That," I breathed, finally letting out a shaky laugh, "was amazing, hubby! You totally controlled his mind!"

  Jay shot me a look that clearly said, "One more 'hubby' and I'm leaving you for the wolves."

  We crested the next rise, and the breath caught in my throat for a different reason.

  There, spread out in the vast valley below, shimmering in the hazy distance, was Veridia. It was enormous, sprawling, protected by colossal stone walls that dwarfed anything I'd ever imagined. Towers pierced the sky, smoke curled from countless chimneys. It looked… alive.

  But it wasn't just the city. It was what was above it.

  Dozens of them. Ships. Soaring through the air like impossible birds. Wooden hulls, billowing sails catching the wind, but held aloft by… something else. Glowing crystals? Arcane engines? They weren't sleek sci-fi vessels, more like fantastical galleons navigating invisible currents in the sky, converging towards the city center.

  "Whoa," I whispered, my earlier fear forgotten, replaced by pure, unadulterated geek ecstasy. "Are those… airships? Like, Final Fantasy airships? Or maybe Eberron? Spelljammers? Ohmigosharetheyrunonmagicorsteampunkor—"

  The Oz comparison suddenly felt woefully inadequate. We weren't just off the yellow brick road anymore.

  We'd stumbled into a whole new level of awesome.