Vance's confrontation seemed to be what the spell needed. His father simply stepped back and faded away. The light overhead dimmed slightly so it was only half as bright. Then, after a long moment of looking at Vance, as if considering everything he'd said, the spell that had created the vision reacted to what he was thinking. It adapted and changed.

Penance took off his helmet and underneath, there wasn't a battered, dead-eyed, young man with a bald head and bleeding pinpricks on his face. There was a blonde, floppy-haired young man with a smile that reached his eyes -- the real Robbie Vance had left behind at home.

"Come on, man, this spell was meant to keep you out of some serious business," he said with a shrug. "You can't blame it for giving the old college try."

He raised both eyebrows.

"I really hope you know what you're doing," he said, and with that, he stepped back into the shadows as well, fading away.

Laira was still there, but the illusion was waiting. Waiting to see if there was a rejection of the guilt or not. Waiting to attack or fade away. It all depended on Hal.