"This is not an illusion as you know it. I am using mental-magic so we can understand each other."

Another young man takes a step forward (well, he is flying, but similar effect). "We are from another world. It's possible our kind of magic is different than yours."

Nagubal's smile fades for moment, and he shares a look with Trenyk, who can only shrug, and Znelaar, who nods and steps forward, before 'speaking' to the strangers. "You entered our world through the Oldkathe, what you might call our world's center, or origin. Such a thing happening would seem to imply that the First Shaper left the key to enter this world with you, or your forebears, so it is surprising that your magic and even your language would be so different from ours."

Nagubal nods, and speaks again next. "Please, come with us. The other Shapers here in the mountaincourt are all in a fuss about your arrival, so we need to go explain the situation to them."

After a moment he realizes that the situation hasn't been explained to him yet, either, and so he asks, "Where are you from, anyway, if you're not from the Old World?"

"Presumably, yet a third world. More specifically, we have been locked inside a magical dome that's been up since before I was born. There was a war and we don't know what happened to the rest of the world, but we have had no contact since we got locked inside. After many attempts we decided we might try bypassing the dome by leaving the world, which was still very tricky. I wouldn't be surprised that our attempts at slipping past our barrier somehow bypassed yours too."

"The war was what caused the dome to go up." Esreno clarifies. "Our town was being used by one of the sides to host future soldiers."

The younger shaper nods, he and his retinue seemingly all caught in thought. Their contemplation is interrupted as other people begin to arrive at the strangers location, and soon there is a crowd forming around them.

"We should get going, before it gets too hard to meet up with others." Nagubal says, voice quivering just a little. Znelaar nods, before gesturing to the strangers to follow her and then beginning to forge a way through the crowd, deeper in to the palace whose courtyard they'd landed in.

"I shall take point then."

There is some quiet communication between the group and someone departs, presumably to inform the others.

"Where exactly did we land?"