Aversion to Iron

Chapter 47

The room they landed in was huge and spacious...and filled with faeries.

Faeries that were confused as to why the rift opened but no one stepped through.
It was amazing how much the colour red could do, how effective a few iron nuggets in the pockets were.
Scar had his red leather armour, Doc had a red lab coat, False was wearing a red bandanna around her arm, a flower crown of red poppies and roses sat on Stress's head, and Iskall had tied Grians red sweater around his waist.

It was such a small thing, and yet it rendered them invisible to the faeries.

Scar drew his finger to his lips, signalling to the others to stay quiet as he led them down a hallway at random, tip-toeing through the corridor so as to not be heard.

Finding Mumbo and Grian was like searching for a needle in a haystack- it was nearly impossible due to the sheer amount of faeries in the area and the need for stealth.
Getting caught meant a delay and a very real possibility of death. Scar couldn't afford to lose anyone else after Grian and Mumbo. They had to succeed.

There was no other choice.

False tugged Scar into a room.
"What was that for?" He whispered, the sudden movement shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Focus, okay?" She scolded, gesturing to the hallway as the sound of wings flapping grew steadily louder.

"-hear? Lemur and Blue found the answer!"

"Yeah but only after Red joined. I'm willing to guess that he solved it and they took credit. He's probably pissed about that."

The first voice laughed. "Yeah right. He has his name on so many other charms and spells. I think he'd be okay with letting someone else lay claim to this."

The voices faded away, heading towards the central room where Scar and his friends had come from.

"Do you think that's him?" Stress asked softly as she fiddled with the hem of her sweater sleeve. "I mean- he does wear a red sweater."

"I'm not sure. We don't know if he ever went by that." Doc replied.

Iskall's voice sounded from across the room. "Guys..."

"Yeah?"

"What do you think happened here?" He asked, pointing to the walls and floor, objects thrown across the room with reckless abandon, centred around a seemingly arbitrary spot on the floor.

The room itself wasn't made of the same materials as the rest of the rooms, metal and far more industrial-looking materials reinforcing the walls.

Walls that still bowed outwards and a broken bag on the floor.

A very familiar bag, mind you.
Patches of fabric stuck on from the amount of times Grian crammed it full of supplies, neat stitches barely holding the bag together.

"That's his! That's G's!" Stress smiled. "I'd recognise those patches anywhere."

"But where is he now? I mean, this is clearly a lab and that's clearly his bag. If those faeries were right, we can assume that this was left like this because he found the solution and ran out...making him Red." False reasoned.

A new voice rang out from the doorway, drawn in by the sound of people talking. "You're looking for Red?"

Naturally, they all froze.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Iskall nodded his head 'yes', desperate for news about Grian and yet terrified of this newcomer.

"I have some bad news about him. Follow me." She said. She didn't seem worried about the group, too lost in her own emotions as she led them through the maze of hallways and offshoots.

"He's in there with a friend- Dust- who came back with him." She nodded as she pointed them inside, walking away as her lab coat chased her heels.

A curtain of vines sectioned off a part of the room and Scar assumed that was where they were headed. After all, every other bed was empty and the room was very obviously an infirmary, large windows casting yellow light across the floors.

They found Grian so much easier than expected- they were halfway done and just had to get out.
They could go home within mere hours of arriving, no fighting necessary.
They could be happy again, acting like a family.

Scar already had the words he wanted to say on his lips. He'd apologise to Grian for what he did and how he acted, the words would tumble out of his mouth like a waterfall in a beautifully chaotic disaster.

A faerie stepped out from the vines, rubbing his eyes and he was clearly exhausted, dress shirt rumpled, hair sticking up in odd directions, and wings flat against his back- held so stiff that it was like he never used them before.

Scars words died in his mouth.

A very familiar faerie- which shouldn't have been possible- one with a moustache and bits of redstone still stuck on the shirt, staining it permanently.

Iskall was the first to break the silence, his voice soft and hesitant as if he didn't want to face reality.
"Mumbo?"

And the faerie looked up at the name.
"Hi again." Mumbo replied, his voice hoarse and broken.