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I squinted, attempting to discern any anomalies, but the shuttle’s interior looked as solid and real as ever.
The lighting was consistent, the panels and switches unmoved.
It was all very… ordinary.
But as I observed Kuana, I saw his fingers close around something, an invisible entity that seemed to resist him.
His brow furrowed, muscles in his forearm flexing. “No more lies,” he growled, voice echoing in the confined space. “Only the truth from now on.”
As he squeezed, there was a momentary flicker, like static from an old television set.
The entire scene before me seemed to blur and refocus.
And then, as if emerging from the shadows, Ikhax’s figure solidified.
He was suspended in the air, held by Kuana’s iron grip around his throat.
The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.
We weren’t inside a real shuttle at all!
This was another of Ikhax’s manipulative tricks, a Fabrication, an illusion designed to lull us into a false sense of security.
Ikhax’s face was a mask of surprise and desperation.
Clearly, he hadn’t expected Kuana to detect his ruse so quickly.
Kuana’s voice was ice cold. “Did you really think you could keep us here, playing with our minds, shaping our reality again?”
Ikhax struggled to breathe, his eyes darting around, looking for an escape.
I could feel the anger bubbling inside me.
Kuana’s grip tightened further.
Ikhax’s eyes widened, but his fingers twitched in a specific pattern.
As he choked the life out of him, the world around us dissolved completely.
* * *
The scene before me was eerily familiar.
Charred metal beams and shattered machinery were strewn everywhere, and the walls that had once housed Ikhax’s maniacal ambitions were now blackened, skeletal remains.
I hesitated for a moment, taking in the real world and comparing it to the illusion Ikhax had trapped us in.
The differences, subtle as they were, became apparent.
The real world had a tactile feel that the fabricated world lacked.
Every burnt fragment, every scorched mark, told a story of survival and defiance.
Scattered amongst the debris were bodies of Ikhax’s guards, lifeless, forever trapped in their final moments.
It was a grim testament to the power of the plasma that Kuana carried within him, a power that had, up until now, been a mixed blessing.
Ikhax wriggled in Kuana’s grip, but it was clear that he was a mere shadow of his former self.
