Ibeos: What If? "Lost in My Own Fantasy"

Chapter 9. Fugitives

33,200 C. Aeris 42

Twilight draped Cadon in a cloak of mist, the city streets quiet except for the soft murmur of dawn's first workers stirring. Thilo and I, disguised by the magic of a simple farmer's cap and a drab cloak, slipped through the shadows. Every footstep felt like a silent declaration of our intent to escape the confines of a city that was as much a prison as it was my accidental home.

"Feels odd, doesn't it?" I whispered, adjusting the weight of the Bag of Holding against my hip. It was packed with essentials and a few scraps of the life I had before. "Sneaking out like thieves when all we're stealing is a chance at answers."

Thilo nodded, his eyes scanning our surroundings with a historian's caution turned fugitive's paranoia. "Just keep a low profile. We blend in, hit the tunnels, and follow them west—straight to whatever fate awaits us beyond Greca's watchful eyes."

We edged closer to the city's periphery where the ancient tunnel entrance awaited, shrouded by years of neglect and the city's relentless sprawl. The air grew chillier as we moved, biting through our thin disguises, reminding us of the thin line we walked between discovery and freedom.

Our pace quickened as the tunnel's makeshift entrance, that Alexi created, neared. The mist seemed to thicken, clinging to our clothes and dampening the sounds of the city awakening behind us. We were moments away from the relative safety of the underground when a sharp whisper broke the morning's calm.

"Halt! Who goes there?" The voice was authoritative, laced with a suspicion that made my heart skip a beat. Two figures emerged from the mist, their Quartz Guard uniforms barely discernible under the cloak of early dawn.

I froze, my mind racing for an excuse. Thilo, ever the quick thinker, stepped forward, his voice steady. "Good morning, officers. Just heading to the fields early. The best time to gather fresh herbs, you know?" His attempt at a disarming smile seemed to hang in the foggy air between belief and doubt.

The guards exchanged a look, their expressions unreadable. One of them, a taller figure with a stern face, stepped closer. "Fields are the other way," she pointed out, her gaze piercing. "You two seem lost, or perhaps up to something less innocent."

My pulse hammered in my ears as I clutched the Bag of Holding a little tighter. The thought of being caught now, when freedom was so close, was unbearable. "We... we must have taken a wrong turn," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Thilo, sensing the growing skepticism from the guards, added hastily, "Yes, a simple mistake. We'll just head back the right way. Thank you for your vigilance." He tried to steer me gently by the elbow, signaling a retreat that might diffuse the situation without further complications.

However, the guard wasn't convinced and stepped in our path, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "A moment, please," she insisted. "You wouldn't mind if we checked your bag, would you? For safety's sake."

My heart sank. The Bag of Holding contained not just food and water but maps, notes, and other items that screamed more than simple farmers out for herb gathering. Exposure now would ruin everything. I glanced at Thilo, whose eyes flickered with a silent debate, calculating our slim chances if this escalated further.

With a forced calmness I didn't feel, I replied, "Of course, but you won't find anything more than supplies for the day." I slowly unslung the bag, offering it to her with a reluctant hand, hoping the magic of the bag might conceal its true contents long enough for us to think of a better plan.

The guard took the bag, peering inside briefly before her companion called her attention to a distant commotion further down the street—perhaps a minor disturbance or another early riser out of place. It was the distraction we desperately needed. "Looks like we're needed elsewhere," she muttered, handing back the bag with a final wary glance. "Stay out of trouble, you two."

As the guards hurried off toward the disturbance, Thilo and I didn't waste a second. We quickly made our way to the tunnel entrance. Descending the now familiar staircase, the lingering unease from our last encounter in these depths gnawed at me, but the pressing need to escape spurred us onward.

Once at the base, we navigated through the large chamber where we had faced the Gravalkin. The room was unsettlingly quiet now, the monstrous presence just a haunting memory. We crossed with quick, purposeful strides, reaching the access that led into the deeper network of tunnels.

The real journey began as we stepped through the archway into the labyrinthine paths beneath Ibeos. Here, the air was thick with the earthy smell of damp and decay. Our passage was lit only by the small lantern Thilo carried, its light flickering against the rough-hewn walls, casting long shadows that seemed to dance around us.

"Keep close," I whispered, the oppressive silence magnifying every sound. The tunnel stretched onward, its dark maw swallowing the weak pool of light from our lantern. I could feel the weight of the earth above us, a constant reminder of the miles of rock and soil under which we now traveled.

With each step, the reality of our decision to defy the council and break from the confines of Greca settled heavier on my shoulders. We were fugitives now, threading through the veins of a continent, chasing whispers of ancient secrets that could either vindicate us or doom us further. The tunnel gradually narrowed, and the air grew cooler, a sign that we were moving deeper beneath the surface. Thilo, usually full of historical anecdotes and eager commentary, was uncharacteristically silent, his focus narrowed to the path illuminated by our feeble lantern.

As hours passed, the monotony of the tunnel began to weigh on us. The smooth, worn path gave way to a rougher, less-trodden track. "We're approaching the border areas," Thilo noted, checking the map by the light of our lantern. "The magic barriers should be weaker here theoretically, but we still need to be cautious."

As predicted, we eventually came upon a section of the tunnel that shimmered with a faint, pulsating light—signs of a magical barrier, but visibly weaker than what would be expected. "This is our chance," I whispered, the reality of our escape plan suddenly crystallizing into an acute point of action.

Thilo nodded, and with a deep breath, we stepped through the barrier, feeling only a slight tingle as we passed. On the other side, the air felt different—freer somehow.

"According to the maps," Thilo said, consulting the parchment once more, "if we keep heading west, we should reach the outskirts of Antonia in about two months. It's a long walk in the dark, but..."

"But it's worth it if we can find answers," I finished for him, the prospect of reaching Orphea, a place of ancient secrets and possibly answers to the growing threats, solidifying my resolve.

With renewed determination, we continued onward, each step taking us further from the life I knew and deeper into the legends and lore of Ibeos. What lay ahead was uncertain, and the risks were real, but the journey—this bizarre, incredible journey—was only just beginning.