"Everything is illusion, Master Caretaker, and you've been living in the biggest one of them all. But let's go somewhere else, if here is not acceptable."
Wren tilted his head, and suddenly the garden was no more. Rowan's vision lurched as reality shifted around them. Now they were in what appeared to be a dilapidated shrine. Rain poured in from the holes in the roof to splatter in puddles at their feet. A worn, straw mat was in the corner of the small room. The cool, wet air smelled like leaves.
"This used to be my version of a garden once, before I knew how to make anything better." Wren's voice grew distant.
"I never said there was no place for you." Rowan's whole being struggled against the illusion. His skin felt tight and itchy, and nausea rolled in his empty stomach. He tried switching to his liminal vision, but all he could see was red.
