The magic of the forest might not be readily apparent to a Human, but to a Wingly? A few scant steps into the heavily forested bog and the magic therein was thick and cloying. There was something in this forest, not just alleged bog monsters, but something else. Something wicked that took pleasure in seeing the misfortune of others, and there wasn’t just one. The bog was full of them, whatever they were. Albert called them Faeries so perhaps it was not simply superstition. The Divine Tree had heralded one hundred eight races, who was to say Faeries were not among them?

Then something happened, something decidedly purposeful and malevolent. The magics that hummed in the air grew still, as if sensing another presence among them, and then exploded into a chattering of power all around Lloyd. Albert would see nothing out of the ordinary, he was too human, even with his Dragoon Spirit, he couldn’t sense them by any means other than sight or sound. But the Wingly! It coalesced in places around him, but never stood still long enough. It dispersed almost immediately to coalesce in a different spot nearby, and it did this rapidly. But that wasn’t the only thing happening. There was still the chattering of power pressing itself around him. It was like a hundred voices talking all at once and directly to him, but it was so much more than that because there were no words, no meaning in the way words have meaning, there was emotion and fire and water, and earth, and wind, and light, and dark all at once all concentrated all forced at the Wingly all just to see what he would do.