Not so much of a problem out here in such isolation and without even a passable road nearby. It’s the perfect place to hide.
I open my magical senses, tap into a small ley line, and I feel the presence of something foreign. As if something doesn’t belong.
The cloaking spell, of course, hiding something in the middle of nowhere. I use all my might to see past it, wanting to test its strength myself, but I can’t breach it.
While I might be a little off-kilter with my magic, it’s some of the most powerful in our land. I approve of the strength of this cloaking spell.
“I can’t push past the cloak,” I murmur in appreciation.
“The Scrinia did a good job. Had you not been with me or Bastien, you would’ve been pushed off course about a mile back.”
As we walk closer, it feels like a rubber band snaps the surrounding air. Suddenly, I can make out the spell’s shimmering edge. My magic connects, and I can feel that I’ve been granted access. The cloak forms a pearly, luminescent dome over the area, rising high into the sky and spreading out so far over the hills, I can’t see where it ends. Tiny sparkles swirl about, but I can’t see what’s inside. Only the hilly landscape beyond.
“It’s massive,” I say.
“Lots of people to hide,” Kieran replies.
The edges of the spell undulate as we get closer, as if it senses our presence and is trying to figure out if we’re allowed past.
We step through, and it feels like a cool breeze against me, enough to lift my hair away from my shoulders. King startles slightly, but my firm grip on his reins keeps him in check.
As I take in the surroundings, nothing prepares me for what I see. My jaw drops in astonishment. Standing at the edge of an alley between two buildings, I realize now that this isn’t just a camp or a stronghold but a fully functioning town, bustling with people. Permanent buildings line several streets, built of wood, stone, and mud mortar with shale-shingled roofs. The roads are hard-packed dirt mixed with gravel, upon which horse-drawn wagons travel while people stroll the cobbled sidewalks. There are even oil lampposts on street corners.
This place has functioning commerce. Just across the street on one block alone, I see a butcher, a grocer, an apothecary, and a clothing store. At the end of a long street, a building stands taller and longer than the others. It has a domed roof with a spire, upon which sits a stone raven.
That would be Conclave Hall and I expect where I’ll be meeting later with the group of appointed advisors who sent me through the veil against my will. Whether they’ll keep their jobs after said meeting depends on their explanation for doing so.
I scan the area as we make our way through the settlement. Although this is my homeland, I’m disoriented by the juxtaposition between Wyoming and Vyronas. I suppose living seven years in the First Dimension has me accustomed to modern technology and convenience.
Not all dimensions are created equal, nor do they evolve the same. While the First Dimension chose the path of modernization with discoveries and developments, such as electricity, industrialization, and technology, Vyronas has remained almost provincial.
It doesn’t mean we’re cavemen.
Quite the contrary, actually.
While the buildings here in this makeshift town are rustic, this isn’t the norm. The city of Kestevayne has beautiful architecture created from stone, granite, marble, brick, and stucco. We have our conveniences, but much of it is powered by ley lines. We don’t have electricity, but our lighting, running water, heat, and cooling are powered by magic.
We had no need to develop motor vehicles or flight, as many citizens can bend distance, which is actually far better than the First Dimension modes of travel. Those with weaker magical abilities stay central to a city or travel via horse, especially if needing to transport cargo.
Vyronas is not the same size as the Earth realm. The entire land here is only about three hundred thousand square miles, a little larger than the state of Texas.
Bastien is across the street, moving down a sidewalk without looking back at us. He knows we’ll follow.
I get strange looks from passersby. I’ve been gone a long time, and I’m not sure how recognizable I am these days. I’m also dressed in jeans, a button-down shirt, my Stetson, and boots, which makes me an oddity. Vyronas receives visitors from other dimensions, so it’s not unusual to see foreigners, but I imagine given that this place is cloaked, it could be disconcerting.
Pants on women is not unusual here, but many Vyronasian women—particularly in the maiorn or royal castes—prefer to wear feminine dresses. Modesty isn’t a concern, and in warm weather, such garments tend to be gauzy, flowing, and often revealing. Some even mirror First Dimension fashions observed by visitors, but as I look around, most women are dressed practically. We are living in a time of war. Pants and tunics belted with leather strips indicate that life here is about work and survival.