Daemon’s clothes were only a little damp by the time they reached the Imperial City. They’d wanted to come back right away, but because he couldn’t yet summon his wolf powers at will, he couldn’t fly them there, which meant they needed to budget enough time to swim across the channel from Isle of the Moon to Kichona’s main island, then make their way on foot from the coast to the Imperial City before infiltrating the Dragon Prince’s castle. Even with sailfish and cheetah spells, the journey would take a couple hours. Plus, there was the time required to actually search for Empress Aki and, hopefully, kill Prince Gin. Besides, this wasn’t the sort of mission one rushed through. So they’d decided to wait until sunset to break into the city.

Honestly, Daemon still doubted their ability to save the kingdom on their own, but if the rest of them were in, he was, too, and he would do everything he could to keep them safe.

Now, as the cloak of night settled over the kingdom, he, Sora, Fairy, and Broomstick stood on the edge of the Field of Illusions. Its black-and-white sands shifted incessantly in dizzying optical illusions. Sometimes there were whirlpool-like spirals that seemed to suck the sand into the ground. Other times, diamond fractals kept changing color, making them hard to keep track of. And then there were the constantly moving black-and-white waves that rocked the brain into a kind of psychological seasickness. Only taigas could traverse the Field of Illusions successfully; any non-taigas who wanted to enter the Imperial City needed a warrior to escort them across. Otherwise, they’d lose their way.

“How do you want to do this?” Sora asked. There were many ways to approach crossing the obstacle; the only common thread was not to look at the changing patterns, because they were meant to cause confusion.

“Broomstick and I are going to use mole spells,” Fairy said.

“I don’t really feel like digging tonight,” Sora said. “But you two go ahead.”

Daemon knew that wasn’t why she objected, though. She did it for him. Mole spells allowed taigas to burrow beneath the illusions and travel quickly, but for a boy who constantly craved the openness of the sky, being buried under several feet of sand was more than a little anxiety inducing for Daemon. Sora had spoken up so he didn’t have to admit yet another weakness. Gratefulness overflowed in Daemon’s chest, like a mug of beer filled to the brim, foam spilling out of the glass.

He looked at the Citadel, several hundred yards away. With the onset of night, the ryuu had lit torches on the tops of the fortress walls. “We can use hydra spells,” Daemon said to Sora. “We’ll be blind to the shifting sand but drawn by the torchlight.”

“Sounds good to me.”