Scar knew that Grian said that he was fine and they should ditch the search party idea. So they did.
So why the hell did he suddenly feel apprehensive? Why were his instincts screaming at him to find Grian, to get him help, that the faerie wasn't okay and wanted- no needed someone to come?

He had no idea where to begin searching for the prankster. He had no idea how to help or why he felt this way- didn't Grian hate him?

And then a knock on his door snapped him out of it. Right.
He forgot Iskall swung by often to check on him. To make sure Scar was taking care of himself.

"Scar? Dude? You okay?" He asked, opening the door and letting himself in. Scar was sitting on the floor, his hands curled up by his chest and knees by his chin. The wizards laboured breathing filled the air and Iskall found himself kneeling next to Scar before he could blink.
"Hey- it's okay. Squeeze my hand, you're okay." He soothed. "You're okay."

Scar nodded, glancing towards Iskalls voice, his eyes unfocused as his mind was reeling. After a few moments with Iskall by his side, he slowly came back to himself and slumped into his arms again. "Thanks."

"Of course. Mind telling me what happened?"

"I just...I don't know? I think Grian needs help." Scar stammered. "I really think he's not okay."
And Iskall (bless him) nodded without questioning how or why Scar felt that way.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do about getting together a search party so we can find hi-" A tapping at the window cut Iskall short.
"Or not." He laughed, opening it up and studying the cause of the sound.
"Hello Professor Beak. Think you can lead us back to Grian?" To which the pesky bird squawked and bobbed it's head as if it was nodding.

"Are we just gonna go? Right now? Or do- do you wanna get some people together before setting off?" Scar frowned, sitting up from his position on the floor as Professor Beak made himself comfy in his lap.

"How about we scout it out and if we think we need people to come help, we can tell them what's going on and where to meet up. If you feel like Grian is in danger, I don't want to hesitate."

~~~~~

The second the two landed on the other side, Thorn gestured for guards to surround them.
"Don't want you to get any ideas after all." He explained away, waving a hand at the rift and watched it close itself, dirt and branches filling in the gap as if it were never there.
"Now. Give me your names." Thorn demanded, his hand in front of them- the same way Grian had done.

Grian- to his credit- looked up at Thorn with a fire in his eyes and kept his mouth shut, denying the king any sort of answer.
And was promptly burned with the iron that made up the guards weapons.
It was a white-hot sort of pain, nothing like what he experienced in the other realm and he stared up at Thorn, the question clear in his eyes.

"Ah! Right. Refined iron and a few runes really do make all the difference in pain. It's not fun now is it, Red?
"I don't like having to use it, but I do what I must." He hummed nonchalantly, as if this was typical court affairs. It was. None of the other fae in the court bat and eye at the two newcomers being tormented in the middle of the room.
"Now, if you won't give me your name, maybe your friend will give me his, hmm?
"Or will I be forced to use the same iron on him?"

Grian could stand being hurt. This was normal for Thorn. He had been through it before. But Mumbo? Mumbo didn't remember this, it was all new to him. Grian couldn't stand the thought of Mumbo being hurt- especially on account of him. "Don't! I'm- I'm called Grian."

"Not what I wanted, Grian." Thorn frowned. "Must you insist on testing my patience? I already am displeased with your vanishing act eons ago. It would be wise to simply give me what I want rather than endure this needless torture."

Mumbo shot Grian a look as if to say "don't" but Grian was faster, his name tumbling from his mouth into Thorns hands.
"My name is Grian."

"Perfect. Now Grian. Tell me your friends name."