WHEN THE INVISIBULS COVERED HER BODY, OKSA thought she’d scream in disgust. The tiny creatures weren’t insects, but being plastered in sticky tadpoles wasn’t high on Oksa’s list of favourite pastimes.
“Oh… I’m not sure I can bear this,” she mumbled, trying not to open her mouth too wide.
Fortunately, her Lunatrix was clinging to her, which was some comfort. In a few seconds, both of them were coated with the creatures and had disappeared from view. Aware of the huge advantage this new power gave her, Oksa took a deep breath, emptied her mind in an attempt to forget the thick layer of Invisibuls crawling over her, and shot into the air above the island.
The Ageless Ones accompanied her to the invisible frontier, infusing her with courage and determination. Although Oksa didn’t lack these qualities, the thought of being surrounded by her worst enemies, despite being invisible, was more daunting than she’d have imagined.
As if sensing her presence, Ocious lifted his hand and roared, bringing half the land patrols into the air. What had he seen? A movement in the protective field around the island? A gap in Oksa’s covering? He examined the cloudy sky with narrowed eyes. He knew she was there. When she was just a couple of feet away from him, Oksa met his suspicious eyes, which almost threw her off-balance. It was so odd to see without being seen!
“Everyone to me, now!” commanded Ocious.
The squadrons raced towards their leader. In an instant, a hundred men at least formed a wall around him. Oksa was furious with herself. Instead of grimacing at how sticky the Invisibuls were, why hadn’t she asked the important questions like would her body lose its density? Could she be hit by Granoks? Could they capture her? Aware of her fears—especially her pounding heart—the Lunatrix tightened his arms around her.
“My Young Gracious should make the acquisition of one piece of information,” he said to Oksa, who could feel panic taking hold.
“I’m listening,” she whispered.
“The Invisibuls procure an encounter with transparency full of completeness. My Young Gracious can exhibit the conviction of not being seen or heard or felt or touched. A single inconvenience nevertheless experiences survival: the gestures of my Young Gracious have no power to implement consequences.”
“What?” exclaimed Oksa, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. “You mean I’m immaterial? Like a ghost?”
“The affirmation is complete, my Young Gracious.”
That was all it took for Oksa to make up her mind. Gathering speed, she hurled herself at the human wall in front of her.
“Let me pass, you lousy bastards!” she screamed at the top of her voice.
There was a slight feeling of resistance as she passed through the bodies of several soldiers, but nothing that could stop her. The men also seemed to sense some kind of movement, but couldn’t work out what had caused it. Some of them looked at each other sceptically, while others looked round, trying to locate the source of this strange sensation.
When Ocious attempted to fire a Knock-Bong, the blow felt to Oksa like a puff of wind: under the layer of Invisibuls, her hair was ruffled and a gentle breeze skimmed over her skin.
Oksa gloated, dizzy with excitement. Then she suddenly came face to face with Orthon, her age-old enemy, and her jubilation instantly turned to a towering rage. The Felon was standing motionless in mid-air, on the lookout. Oksa hovered just in front of him in a stationary Vertiflight and glared into his aluminium-grey eyes.
“I hate you!” she yelled, protected by the Invisibuls which deadened her every sound. “You’re the worst scumbag in the two worlds! And I’m telling you now: you will pay dearly for everything you’ve done to everyone I love!”
Orthon might not have heard the words, but the Young Gracious’s rage seemed able to penetrate any kind of defence, including the ultra-powerful layer of Invisibuls. Orthon suddenly shot out his arm and his hand connected with Oksa’s shoulder. Petrified, she didn’t dare move an inch. The Lunatrix clung to his mistress with all his might.
“My Young Gracious should proceed to an escape,” he murmured. “Now.”
Shaken out of her immobility, Oksa took off in a flash, soaring above the clouds in record time. Leomido—her beloved teacher—would have been proud of her: Ocious, Orthon and their damned squadrons could look for her all they liked, they’d never find her!
As usual, the Tumble-Bawler proved to be an exceptional guide. Covered with a fistful of magic tadpoles, it led Oksa through the sky with frequent words of encouragement. Still trembling from her aerial encounter, Oksa was very grateful for its support. She had to admit that it was hard to brave such dangers on her own.
“My Young Gracious will never make the encounter with loneliness,” said the Lunatrix suddenly, wrapping his long arms around Oksa’s neck. “Her life will always experience unfolding in the company of her creatures.”
Oksa slowed down.
“You’re so kind, my Lunatrix,” she said eventually. “And I know you’re right!”
Touched by his words, she kept following the Tumble-Bawler, which was panting as it flew. Beneath them Edefia was now a dismal, endless wasteland, a muddy desert crossed by rivers in spate after the continual rain of the past few days. From time to time soldiers flew past without seeing them and, every time, Oksa felt stronger. More resilient. Steadfast in the face of adversity. She’d regained so much more than her energy after her restorative stay with the Ageless Ones.
“Where are we, Tumble?” she asked.
“Tumble-Bawler of the Young Gracious reporting!” said the creature, continuing to flap its wings. “We’re forty miles from our destination, heading south. Given that we’re Vertiflying at an average speed of sixty miles an hour, we can expect to arrive in forty-one minutes.”
“Are we travelling that quickly?” asked Oksa in surprise.
“That was an average, my Young Gracious. You’re capable of flying much faster. For example, you hit your maximum speed fifty-seven minutes ago, when you came face to face with Ocious’s soldiers. Your escape then permitted you to reach a speed of eighty-two miles per hour.”
Oksa whistled.
“Not bad at all!”
Fired by this information, she performed a fearless pirouette in mid-air, which made the Lunatrix chuckle with pleasure.
“What about our destination?” she went on. “Can you tell me where we’re going?”
The Tumble-Bawler turned to hover in front of her, beating its wings rapidly, its small round eyes wide.
“We’re heading for a place that was once the most splendid city in Green Mantle, my Young Gracious. The native city of your great-grandfather Waldo and the Fairyman: Leafhold.”
“I thought so!” exclaimed Oksa eagerly.
Twilight was gradually darkening the horizon. A magnificent, freakish oasis of greenery, bristling with giant trees, appeared in the middle of the muddy waste. Oksa felt capable of anything. She was finally going to see the legendary city, the birthplace of the Sylvabuls and of part of herself, and instinctively she knew that this new phase would play a decisive role in her destiny.